


Coming Around Again

by sidewinder, ThetaSigma



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: And I do mean everyone, Angst, Background Cases, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Crack, Dirty Talk, Drunken Kissing, Erotic Massage, Everyone will be in this, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Groundhog Day, Hand Jobs, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Homicide: Life on the Street references, Kink Exploration, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Penetrative Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outdoor Sex, References to Depression, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Spanking, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Loop, Weddings, a cat named Marmalade, and a dog named Batman, back from the dead, canon-typical mentions of sexual assault, fixing canon fuck-ups, misadventures in cooking, parallel universes (maybe?), surprise cameo appearances, torturing Elliot is always fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 102,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: Fin realizes he's reliving the same Friday, over and over again. What he doesn't realize, at least at first, is that John is stuck in this time loop with him. When they finally figure it out, will they ever be able to solve the mystery of how to break free?





	1. The Day It Started/Day One

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be quite a long fic, and it's one that has been in the works for nearly a year at this point. If you're looking for some good cracky - and eventually smutty - Munch/Fin fun, we do hope you enjoy this story!
> 
> More tags will be added as the story progresses and other characters appear, including warnings/notes on specific chapters in their end notes if and as might be necessary. Any character tagged by name will appear in multiple chapters in more than a cameo; otherwise, we don't want to give away too many surprises!
> 
> Opening lyrics/title by Carly Simon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fin realizes he's reliving the same Friday, over and over again. What he doesn't realize, at least at first, is that John is stuck in this time loop with him.

_I know nothing stays the same_  
_But if you're willing to play the game_  
_It's coming around again_

* * *

**The Day It Started**

 

_October 23, 2009_

Friday dawned, just like any other day. John woke blearily to his alarm, slapping it off and hauling himself out of bed at 6 a.m. He padded into the bathroom and completed his morning ablutions in a half-dazed state, waking slowly. Fin, too, had set his alarm for six, waking and spending several minutes in bed thinking before he got up and started his day. Both ate breakfast, John reading (and scoffing at) the morning headlines, Fin more interested in the sports scores. Fin liked to leave the headlines for later in the day when he was more awake to process it.

They bumped into each other at the elevator and rode up to the squadroom together.

“Hope we don’t catch anything too involved today,” Fin said. “Could finally use a quiet weekend.”

John agreed whole-heartedly. Their last few weekends had been consumed by cases that had come in on Fridays, giving them little rest. They had just finished the urgent paperwork on their latest case yesterday, and sat down at their desks to wait. Fin pulled out his paper, ready now to read the headlines. John started muttering about them, which Fin ignored with a smirk hidden behind him his paper.

“I don’t see why you read that horrible rag anyway,” John finished, giving the paper a glare.

“We don’t all have your tolerance for niche conspiracy publications, Munch,” Fin replied, flipping the page.

The day managed to pass uneventfully, no case coming in, for which both of them were grateful. It didn’t _guarantee_ a quiet weekend, as they could get called in on a case anytime, but it certainly raised the chances.

John and Fin put on their coats and got read to leave. John turned to Fin, suddenly unwilling to part ways. “Hey, you want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked Fin.

“Nah, man, thanks. Game on TV I wanna catch,” Fin said.

John nodded, a little sadly. He half-considered asking if he could join, but he had no tolerance for sports and he didn’t feel right inviting himself over for no reason.

“Sure,” John said. “Bunch of sweaty men over sparkling wit, I see the draw.”

Fin rolled his eyes at John. “I’ll take that over your nutty conspiracy paranoia any day. Good night, Munch.”

“Night, Fin.”

* * *

 

**Day 1**

Friday dawned again. John woke blearily to his alarm, surprised for a moment. He could’ve sworn it was Saturday, but a quick glance at his phone, kept on his bedside table in case of middle-of-the-night calls, confirmed it was Friday. He frowned; he _definitely_ remembered yesterday as Friday: going into work, no major cases, joking with Fin about the paper, grumbling about paperwork, tossing a ball back and forth every time one of them caught up on another file (Cragen had told them if they had nothing to do, there was always paperwork), asking Fin if wanted to grab a bite, Fin turning him down for a game, the late night movie on TV—Victor/Victoria, surprisingly good—going to bed, ready for an easy Saturday.

So how was it _Friday_? He got up and turned on the news, just in case his phone was going haywire, but the perky TV anchor was announcing it as Friday morning, too. So was his morning paper, which had all the headlines that he remembered from yesterday—today? Some weird Groundhog Day shit, he thought to himself.

Fin woke up to his alarm, too. He got up after his usual few minutes in bed, pissed, brushed his teeth, and shaved without thinking anything was amiss. He read the sports scores at breakfast and frowned. He _distinctly_ recalled reading these, and he thought for a moment. Come to think of it, the alarm shouldn’t’ve gone off, it was _Saturday_. He glanced at the paper—no wonder he’d seen these scores before, he was reading Friday’s paper. He got up and went to his door to get today’s paper—there was no paper in front of his door, although there were in front of many of his neighbors’ doors. He left his apartment and glanced at one of the papers—it said Friday. Frowning, Fin went back into his apartment and turned on his TV. Friday, there, too, and on his phone. Fuck, he had always hated that stupid Groundhog Day movie.

And now he was stuck for God-knows-how-long alone while everyone relived obliviously the same day.

He went into work and bumped into John at the elevators (again). What was it he had said yesterday? “Hope we don’t catch anything too involved today. Could finally use a quiet weekend.”

John thought sourly that as far as he was concerned, it was already _supposed_ to be that quiet weekend. But he agreed with Fin and like yesterday, (today? How does one refer to the day before which was actually the same day?) they both headed to their desks.

Fin knew at this point, he was supposed to pull at his paper, but he remembered the stories from yesterday, and anyway, who’d know?

John was mildly surprised that Fin wasn’t reading the paper, although he didn’t let it show, but his explanation for it would’ve sounded positively insane—last time I went through this day, you read the paper and we bantered about it being a rag. Weird that you’re not reading the paper today. John wondered if this meant he wasn’t stuck in a loop, whatever everything said about it being Friday (again).

Cragen came out of his office and said, “You two, there’s always paperwork.”

So not a _perfect_ loop. They reached for the files, both of them thinking independently and unhappily that if they were stuck in a loop, they were doomed to redo this paperwork until they got out of the loop. And no one to commiserate with. Fin finished looking over one, grabbed his ball, and threw it at John: their usual game. John lobbed the ball back minutes later, wondering how many days it would take for him to memorize these files.

The day started drawing to a close and John wondered if he should even bother asking Fin out for a bite to eat this time—surely he’d be watching that game. Fin, meanwhile, wondered if he’d say yes this time if John asked—the game hadn’t been so interesting he’d watch it again.

John said nothing, figuring he wasn’t that desperate for company, especially when he couldn’t talk about how weird his day had been without sound insane.

Fin was surprised not to be asked to dinner again but said nothing.

They parted ways at the elevator.

 


	2. There's Always Paperwork...Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both men continue to grow worried as the day repeats yet again.

**Day 2**

_—beep beep beep beep beep—_

John groaned, burying his head in his pillow and pounding a clenched fist into the mattress.

This was _not_ happening. Not again.

He had, as a mental point of record, not merely made sure to disable his alarm last night but to unplug it and move it into his kitchen. He distinctly remembered performing that physical act as a small effort to try to break the cycle—or to at least prove to himself that something bizarre was occurring, something inexplicable.

But there was his alarm, back on his nightstand, demanding he get ready for another workday. Another Friday, as confirmed by the date displayed on his cellphone when he checked it next.

_Son of a fucking bitch._

One repeated day he could perhaps, _almost_ , put down to a frazzled brain. Too much stress on the job making him imagine things. Two repeated days in a row, however, and he was beginning to worry about his sanity.

 _Don’t panic,_ he thought to himself, rubbing his left wrist, trying to calm himself by remembering the words he had tattooed there.

He got out of bed and walked to the kitchen, setting up his coffeepot and checking the contents of his refrigerator. The same, solitary strawberry yogurt he’d had for breakfast the last two days—two _Fri_ days—sat there waiting for him.

_Guess I’ll be saving on grocery bills for a while, if nothing else._

The coffee brewed and John stewed. He went to the bathroom for his morning shower, hoping for mental clarity under the hot water. He needed to focus, needed to use logic to figure out what was happening to him. Because there _had_ to be a logical explanation. His entire life revolved around using logic, intuition and indisputable facts to unravel mysteries.

Of course, usually those mysteries involved dead bodies or assaults against others, not a strange phenomenon of repeating the same day in his life, over and over again.

And not even an especially good or memorable day while he was at it!

Logic. Rational thought. _Come on, John, think_ , he berated himself, scrubbing at his scalp until the shampoo foam flew into and began to sting his eyes. _What realistic circumstance would cause a person to be stuck in a time loop like this?_

Time loops didn’t exist, after all...except, perhaps, in the mind, John had to acknowledge. He had to be stuck in some kind of altered state of consciousness for this to be going on. Granted, in his far distant past, he had willingly and frequently participated in the consumption of substances meant to induce such altered states. And he did recall a few intense experiences down acid-laced pathways where time had felt distorted and distended... Where it had seemed as though he’d experienced the events of days if not months in the course of a few short hours. Actual time loops, he didn’t quite recall, though he’d had friends report such trippy experiences to him. And who knew what memories he'd lost to the burned out brain cells of his hippie days past?

So, he thought, he was having a bad acid flashback of some kind. That seemed a reasonable conclusion to make. But if that were the case, what could he do about it—and how did he get _out_ of it?

Damned if he knew. But he’d prefer that possibility over the only other one coming to him at the moment, that he was well and truly losing his mind, not temporarily as a result of past transgressions but permanently...

Like his father before him. Or like his uncle not long ago.

Pushing those darker thoughts aside, John finished cleaning up and dressing for work. He returned to the kitchen to have that first cup of coffee and his yogurt, still brooding and thinking. With ten minutes on the clock before he should leave for work, he got out his laptop to do some quick checking online. This was the kind of personal information search he’d never do on his work computer, for privacy reasons.

Looking for information on LSD flashbacks didn’t yield him any real useful information on such a quick search. All he found were debates on whether they were real or nothing but myths created by those promoting anti-drug propaganda. Some stated that if acid flashbacks _were_ real, they rarely happened years after the fact like this.

He did come across discussion of something known as “hallucinogen persisting perception disorder,” and frowned. On quick scan the symptoms didn’t quite match his own, but he’d have to spend more time reading about it later to be sure. He didn’t have the time right now.

Before he powered off his computer, he opened his email app and scanned over his various personal accounts, seeing if there were any messages of note... Maybe something in there which could give him a clue about his current predicament. But he didn’t see anything useful or important. In fact, he sighed and rolled his eyes to see a stream of twenty or so new messages from Gwen lighting up his one inbox, the throwaway account he used to communicate with people on some of the conspiracy blogs and forums he read. That many messages in a short time from Gwen couldn’t be a good thing. They were probably all about the latest theory or conspiracy with which she’d become obsessed.

At some point he’d have to read them, try to talk her down, even as he wondered why he still felt responsible for her that way. _She’d_ been the one to leave _him_ , after all, those many years ago. And she'd been the one to tell him, only a few months before, that she never wanted to see him again. He’d only been trying to protect her, not bring her any harm, and all he'd received in return was spite and anger. But that was Gwen, unpredictable and unstable as ever.

He shouldn’t still care, especially not when he had his own drama to deal with right now. But some part of him could never fully let her go; she hadn’t been his first love, but she had been his first wife.

Maybe she would have been his _only_ one, if things had gone along a different path, if he hadn't let her mother bully them apart...

Fuck, why was he brooding about these things?

He checked the time and cursed. He’d be late for work if he didn’t bolt. He grabbed his coat and flew out the door, hoping to make his usual train downtown—though if today were like all previous todays, it would be running five minutes late.

* * *

“Hold that!”

Fin scowled as Munch came running at the closing elevator doors. For a moment he’d held a glimmer of hope that today wasn’t going to be a complete repeat of the day before. Maybe he had imagined, somehow, reliving the same twenty-four hours twice already. But he hit the “Open” button and held it until John came rushing in, offering a breathless “Thanks” in Fin’s direction.

“No problem. Rough night?” Fin asked, raising an eyebrow at his winded partner.

“In a manner of speaking.”

 _Ain’t that the truth._ On the ride up, Fin took note of the fact that, yep, John was wearing the same shirt and tie he’d worn the day before... Well, the previous today. And the previous today before that. His dark blue pin-striped shirt and matching tie that was a shade darker. Fin liked that shirt on him; blue was a good color for John, and a nice change of pace from the somber black he always used to wear and...

...and, why was he thinking in such detail about John’s clothes and appearance, anyway?

Shit, John had noticed the way Fin had been looking at him and was now giving him one of those irritating, bemused looks of his. Fin tried to cover himself by sputtering, “I, ah...hope we don’t catch anything too involved today. Could finally use a quiet weekend.”

He’d _told_ himself he wasn’t going to say that again. He remembered saying those exact words twice already. He had to do _something_ to break this cycle, but what?

Munch pursed his lips at Fin’s words, as if he had something to say. But then the elevator arrived on their floor and both men stepped out, heading to their respective desks.

Another day in the office. Another day of, yes, “You two, there’s always paperwork” from Cragen to go through, of tossing a ball back and forth at each other, and too many more days like this and Fin knew he was going to lose his mind.

If he hadn’t already.

He was so bored of these case files, typing them up for the third day in a row, that his thoughts spent a lot more time wandering on this particular today. Trying to pay more attention to the other things around him in the office, the other people. Had Suzanne, over there working the phones, been wearing the same tight red blouse the day before? What about Olivia and Elliot... Had they gone out for lunch together yesterday-today, or eaten lunch at their desks as they were now, too absorbed in a case they’d caught that morning?

What did it mean that the day was repeating, yet there seemed to be these small differences, here and there? Was he supposed to notice one of these small things and react in a different way to it, in order to break free?

Like John staring at him, across their desks, again with an expression like he had something important to ask or say, something on his own mind, before he’d look away, shaking his head almost imperceptibly and muttering something under his breath Fin couldn’t hear.

John could be picking up on Fin’s preoccupied thoughts; he could be annoyingly perceptive that way. And maybe Fin should take him aside to talk about this...

No. No, _no way_ he could say anything about this to John. The man would have some crazy explanation for what was happening to Fin, something involving government mind control experiments and Fin’s time in the military. The next thing, John would be looking out for the black helicopters overhead, seeing secret agents following them everywhere.

He needed to figure this out himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust John or didn’t consider him a friend. His only _real_ friend these days, as scary as that was to contemplate. But they didn’t drag each other into their personal problems like that, and Fin had never been good at reaching out for help from others in general.

This was something he needed to sort through on his own.

The day wore down, once more, the last backlogged file cleared off Fin’s desk, the phones quiet. The clock struck six, Liv and El long gone to track down a lead, Cragen telling them to go home, enjoy a peaceful weekend for a change.

_Ah, if only he could._

“Hey, Fin...” John began as they headed to the exit.

“Yeah?”

“You want to grab a bite to eat?”

 _He asked me the first night,_ Fin remembered, _but not last night. Does that mean something? Should I say yes?_

Part of him wanted to say yes right now, see if that would shake things up. After all, he’d seen the damn game already—ended up watching it again last night from lack of better things to do. And what else did he have to go home to alone, besides more boring television, a few hours of video games before crashing out...

...But then he worried about slipping, telling John his problem. And that would be trouble, like he’d decided before. More troublesome even than the stray thoughts that occasionally passed his mind, like about John’s blue shirt earlier or the feeling that sometimes tickled the back of his brain when he caught the man’s gaze just a little too long...

“Thanks, but...maybe rain check?”

“Game to catch on TV, more interesting than my usual conspiracy paranoia, right?”

Fin paused at that. How did he...? No, he couldn’t. He just knew Fin well enough by now to predict his words in any conversation, surely. “Actually, feeling worn out tonight. Think I need to catch up on sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Hey, what about tomorrow? If nothin’ comes up,” Fin tossed out there, suddenly feeling bad for turning John down.

“Tomorrow. Sure. Let’s hope for a peaceful Saturday.”

 _Let’s hope for a Saturday, period,_ Fin thought, turning off his desk lamp and following John out of the quiet squadroom.

 


	3. Poisoned?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fin worries that John might have done something to him to cause the time loop, and goes to ask a friend for a favor.

**Day 3**

Fin woke again to his alarm. He groaned and slammed his fist against the bed in frustration. Last night, in an attempt to finally force his relaxing Saturday, he had taken a hammer and gone to town on his alarm clock. When he had gone to bed, it was in approximately a hundred pieces in a trashbag in the outside dumpster. After some hesitation, Fin had smashed his phone, too, figuring if it broke the cycle, he’d treat himself and replace the damn thing.

But now it was Friday morning again, his alarm was blaring, his phone was perfectly fine on his nightstand, and something was definitely wrong. Fin hauled himself out of bed with a defeated groan and went to piss, shower, and shave, like every morning. He looked at his reflection carefully and wondered if his goatee would be there the next-same day if he shaved it off this-same day. He considered it idly for a moment, stroking his beard, but he liked the way he looked with it. Maybe another same-day.

He dressed, absently grabbing different clothes than he had worn the past three days of the loop. It wasn’t like anyone would notice, anyway.

Fin went to grab the morning paper and paused. By now, he had read all of it—even the damn classifieds, for fuck’s sake. He padded into his living room, which didn’t have the greatest collection of books. “Couldn’t’ve gotten myself trapped in Munch’s apartment,” he grumbled. “At least then I’d have reading material for years, even if it _is_ all nutty as fuck.” He plucked a mystery off of his shelf—an Agatha Christie, which had been a gift from Munch, who’d been surprised Fin had never read one of the biggest names in murder mysteries. “Not stellar writing, and quite a few problems with it, but she _is_ an institution,” Munch had declared.

Fin started reading that while he ate his breakfast—cereal and milk—like the previous few mornings. He glanced in his fridge after breakfast to see if he had other options to break up the monotony, but at the end of a busy week, he was low on food. He had the feeling that if he were to buy food tonight, it’d disappear by the next-same day.

Cereal it was then for the foreseeable future, unless he stopped for donuts or something on the way in, not that he could set the dratted alarm for any earlier.

Fin worked on what could be wrong all the way to the office. He didn’t believe in the supernatural or the divine, and he was still convinced there was a perfectly logical (non-paranoid, thank you, John) explanation. One that didn’t make him need to look for black helicopters.

* * *

John hadn’t bothered with any fancy tricks with his alarm clock this time, although he had started to wonder if maybe in the middle of the night he had plugged in back in last time. Unlikely, but maybe he was sleep-walking now, too. He had never been a particularly sound sleeper, and he added possible somnambulism to his list of symptoms.

John listlessly ate that fucking strawberry yogurt again while he researched what was wrong with him. His mind flitted to his uncle Andrew and he pushed the thought away sharply. He was _not_ going down that road, dammit!

His efforts didn’t yield much, and John was starting to get the growing, horrible realization that he might actually have to consult a (gulp) _professional_ about this. Not yet, though, not yet.

He glanced at the clock and bolted out the door—he was running late, even for the late-running train.

He made it to the elevator just as Fin did, and Fin sighed. John looked at Fin and gave him a strange look. That outfit was absolutely not the same as Fin had been wearing the past three iterations of today.

They got in the elevator and Fin told himself firmly he was _not_ saying his line again. As far as he was concerned, by now, a case would actually be welcome, if only because he was going out of his fucking mind with paperwork—the _same_ paperwork—day after day. John gave him another very weird look.

“Looking forward to a quiet weekend?” John finally asked.

How could John know? Fin wondered. Eh, it was probably nothing—after all, their past few weeks _had_ been rough. But he had phrased it as a _question_ , and his tone of voice suggested he was _expecting_ something from Fin.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Fin answered, giving John a funny look in return. He sat down at his desk, waiting for the inevitable, “You two, there’s always paperwork,” from Cragen. He glanced at the clock. 5 minutes, 34 seconds until Cragen was due to say it. Fin sighed and reached for the first file, figuring he might as well get started. “I’m guessing it’s a paperwork day,” he said to John.

John frowned at him until Cragen came out of his office and said, “You two, there’s always paperwork”—all remaining 4 minutes, 27 seconds.

Coupled with John’s behavior the previous-same day, Fin was getting suspicious. He thought about it as he did these files practically from memory, remembering to toss the ball back and forth with John. Fin was still convinced there was a perfectly logical explanation for the time loop. He thought about the smashed phone and alarm clock—maybe he _hadn’t_ smashed it, just _hallucinated_ doing so. Time loops and hallucinations? It could be medical. Hell. What if he had been poisoned?

A thought—a horrible, terrible, gnawing thought occurred to him suddenly. John had picked up lunch the actual yesterday—Thursday—Chinese food, eaten at their desks while they tracked leads. Coupled with the looks John kept giving him…. Fin’s stomach plummeted. Had John finally gone off the deep end? Had the paranoia finally consumed him? Fin swallowed hard. He needed to find out what had happened, but he had to protect John. If it _was_ John, it wasn’t his fault, and Fin was going to do everything in his power to protect his friend—his _best_ friend.

Fin knew already that no matter what happened, he forgave John and would fight like hell for not pressing charges. If that was unavoidable, fuck, he’d assist in John’s defense. He gave John’s bent head a tight smile. He knew exactly who to go see about it for confirmation, the only person he could trust to run these tests and try to protect John at the same time.

He stood up and John gave him another weird look. Fin gave him a sad smile.

“Where are you going?” John asked, clearly puzzled.

“Think I missed something the first time around,” Fin lied. “Gonna run down to CSU to check it out.” He definitely didn’t want John to come looking for him while he was testing his theory.

He missed the very weird look John was giving him.

Fin entered the morgue and looked around. Only Melinda was there and he sighed in relief.

“Melinda,” he said quietly. “I need your help.”

Warner stripped off her gloves and came over immediately. “What’s going on, Fin?”

“You’re the only one I trust with this,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I think I’ve been poisoned, and I need you to test me.”

Melinda arched an eyebrow. “There’s more to this than you’re telling me, Fin. You want this kept quiet, otherwise you wouldn’t be _here_. You’d be in the ER.”

Fin nodded. “Please, Melinda. Just between us until we _know_.”

Melinda sighed. “Fine, no paperwork, but you’re telling me exactly what’s going on _and_ why this is so hush-hush.”

Fin blanched. “Do I need to tell you the symptoms?” he asked plaintively.

“If you want me to know what to test for, yes,” Melinda said crossly. “Spill. I’m a doctor, Fin, I’ve heard it all.”

Fin sighed. “I think I’m hallucinating and, uh, my perception of time is all messed up,” Fin answered, figuring it was _pretty_ much the truth.

Melinda nodded thoughtfully. “There are some drugs and medications that could cause that,” she said. “It could also be a brain tumor or a parasite in your brain.” She looked at him sharply. “But you’re convinced you’ve been poisoned, _and_ you know who did it. Fin, what’s going on?”

Fin took a deep breath. “I’m hoping I’m wrong, Melinda, I really am, but it all adds up. Lunch yesterday made me queasy and it all started after that. John got lunch yesterday and he’s been giving me weird looks ever since, especially when it looks like I’m not looking.”

Melinda looked incredulous. “You think _John_ poisoned you?”

Fin looked so serious she said, “Damn, you _do_.”

“Melinda, you know he’s always been paranoid. What if he finally lost touch with reality? That’s why I came to you. We have to protect him.”

Melinda nodded immediately. “Off the books, no paperwork, until we know,” she said. She snapped on gloves. “I’m going to draw blood, Fin, and get a urine sample.” She paused. “And I’m going to do a CT and MRI to check for a tumor and parasites, just in case we’re wrong. I’d hate to miss something like that because we’re fixating on this theory.”

Fin nodded. “Where do you want me?”

She indicated the chair she occasionally did blood draws in—when they had suspects for her to test—and prepped a needle and, to Fin, a dizzying number of vials.

“Damn, am I gonna have any blood left after this?”

“You’re such a crybaby sometimes,” she teased. “Small pinch.”

* * *

Several hours later, Melinda showed Fin the scans of his brain. “They’re totally clear, Fin,” she said. “No tumors, no parasites, no lesions, no aneurysms. Completely unremarkable, normal, healthy brain.”

Fin sighed heavily. Obviously he didn’t _want_ a brain tumor, but equally he didn’t _want_ John to be responsible for this. “So what was I poisoned with?” he asked sadly.

“Nothing,” Warner said, checking pages upon pages of blood and urine results. “There is not _one_ thing in your blood or urine that shouldn’t be there. Fin, you weren’t poisoned.”

Wave after wave of horrendous _guilt_ crashed over Fin. To think he could’ve suspected John— _John_ , his partner, his best friend—of something like this…. And he had been _so_ sure, too.

Melinda looked at his stricken face and said gently, “It was a reasonable theory, Fin, and you did everything not to accuse him out of turn. There’s no paperwork on this. No one but you and I ever have to know you suspected him.”

Fin shook his head dolefully and said, “I should’ve trusted him.”

“Thinking John went totally crazy is not outside the realm of possibility.”

Fin just shook his head again. In any case, come the next-same day, only he’d remember this, his private shame. “So what _is_ wrong with me?” he asked.

“As far as I can tell, absolutely nothing organic, Fin. It’s probably psychiatric.”

“I’m _not_ seeing a shrink,” Fin said forcefully. “Let’s just forget it.”

Melinda gave him a worried look, but Fin ignored it. It didn’t matter, she’d forget all of this happened, and it was good, at least, he guessed, to know it wasn’t medical.

“Thanks for your help, Melinda.”

“Anytime, Fin,” she said, “and I’ll check up on you on Monday.”

If Monday ever comes, Fin thought bitterly.

He headed back to the squadroom, lost in thought.

John looked up at him as he entered, but Fin couldn’t meet his eye. It was heading towards time to go.

“Missed you today,” John said. “Figure out that lead with CSU?”

“Ah, it lead nowhere,” Fin said.

John nodded, like he had expected that—but how could he?

“Want to grab a bite to eat?” John asked.

Fin shook his head, unable to deal with the guilt he was feeling around John right now. “Nah, uh, there’s a game on TV I want to watch,” he said. Honestly, by now, he was never, ever going to watch that game again, no matter how long this fucking loop lasted, but he just couldn’t be around John right now, not when he had suspected such horrible things. The guilt was like a stone on his chest, and he needed to get over it because he’d be back next-same day.

John gave him yet another weird look, but said, “Sure, bunch of sweaty men over sparkling wit, I see the draw.”

That had been exactly what John had said the first same-day, the night it had started.

Fin decided to reply differently, John’s paranoia a touchy subject right now, even if John didn’t know why. “John, I just want a quiet Friday night alone. Maybe tomorrow, if Saturday’s quiet.”

Or ever arrives, they both thought to themselves as they parted ways.

 


	4. A Conversation with Dr. Huang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John decides to seek help himself, fearful of his mental state and what might be causing his current predicament.

**Day 4**

John awoke to the irritating buzzing of his alarm, once again. He picked up his cellphone, on the nightstand beside the alarm, to check the date.

Friday, October 23.

Of course. Again.

He turned off the alarm and dropped back onto his bed with a sigh. He needed to take a moment and think before getting out of bed, to not simply go through the motions as he had the past few Fridays. He was certain this was the fifth time he was living through this particular day now. Or...wait...was it the fourth?

No, the fifth, he assured himself, thinking back on the subtle differences in each iteration of the day to date. One “original” Friday before he suspected anything was wrong, plus now four repetitions. But if this nonsense went on much longer, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep track with such ease.

In a way that was especially frightening. It made him feel more helpless about his predicament than ever, to contemplate this happening again and again until he couldn’t even remember how many times he’d lived through this day already. He wondered if he should try leaving a note to himself, or a message on his phone. But if everything kept resetting, wouldn’t it disappear in the morning? Probably. But maybe he would give it a try tonight to prove or disprove the point.

He didn’t bother making coffee, nor eating the yogurt in his fridge. His appetite was nonexistent and his growing anxiety had him more wired up now than a cup of coffee would.

He’d stayed up late into the night, trying to search down any information he could find about perceived time distortion and repetition, drug related or otherwise. He’d even posted an inquiry or two under one of his sock-puppet accounts, on forums where such discussions were not out of place (and some of the least crazy experiences people talked about.)

But no one had answered him with anything useful, or with any acknowledgement of similar phenomena. Despite all his attempted research, he hadn't been able to find anything concrete. There had only been more possibilities to add to his growing list including physical ailments including a brain tumor or even—God forbid—a food-born parasite. That had given him pause to shudder. There could have been something in the Chinese food he’d gotten for lunch on Thursday, from that new place. Fin had complained of a stomach ache later that day, even though John had felt fine at the time. So maybe...?

It had seemed a plausible answer, and he wasn’t about to throw out anything at this point.

He’d ended up falling asleep at his desk some time after midnight—at least he thought he had. But then he still found himself in his bed this morning. He was growing convinced this situation wasn’t going to sort itself out on its own, that he needed to break down and talk to someone about it, someone he could trust. But who? Melinda could help with actual physical issues, but if it were psychological….

_Don’t panic._

He could only think of one person who might be able to help, and who he hoped could keep the matter private as long as possible. Someone who was familiar with his family’s past, aspects of it he’d not revealed to even his partner after all of these years.

John rushed through his morning shower. With skipping breakfast he was able to catch an earlier train to work, one that wasn't running late. As such he missed Fin at the elevator, which was fine by him. He hoped to catch Dr. Huang without having to explain himself to this partner. Hell, yesterday’s Friday, Fin had disappeared on _him_ for quite a while, leaving him to suffer Cragen’s paperwork directive on his own for most of the day. Time, then, for a little payback.

John knew Huang was around the precinct today, as he’d seen him entering the captain’s office at some point during the previous Fridays. He jotted a post-it note to Fin and left it on his desk: _Doing some research on a case—call me if you need me._ He figured that should be enough to keep his partner from hunting him down while he went looking for the good doctor.

John found him, already ensconced in what had become his semi-permanent office at the 16th. He knocked on the open door and quipped, “You know, for someone who officially works for the FBI, you spend an awful lot of your time here.”

George looked up at John with a patient smile. “I go where I’m needed. Is there something you need from me today, John?”

“If you’ve got some time to spare. Either now or later.”

Huang opened his hands in a welcoming gesture. “Reading over a file right now for an interview this afternoon, but other than that my morning is free. Have a seat wherever you’re comfortable.”

John closed the door and debated the couch or the chair facing the doctor’s desk. He compromised by perching on the edge of the couch, not stretching out on it. He looked down at his hands and fidgeted, trying to find his words, knowing George would wait for him to begin. “I don’t know, maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” John sighed, ready to bolt out the door. Shrinks always made him edgy.

“John, you’re clearly distressed about something. And I know you wouldn’t come to me or someone else in my profession unless it was serious.”

“You’re right. It _is_ serious. I can trust that this conversation will be kept off my record, can’t I?”

“You aren’t here for an official evaluation or mandatory counseling after an incident, so yes. I would only have to say something if I thought you were in imminent danger of causing harm to yourself, or to someone else.”

“No, nothing like that.” _...Yet_ , the word slipped into his thoughts but John pushed it away. “I...don’t even know how begin talking about this, but...I’ve been experiencing the strangest... _something_...for several days now. In my head. I mean, it _has_ to be in my head.” He paused. Did he still try to frame this situation in the realm of the at all possible, or admit to the outright fantastic—and end up labelled crazy on the spot? “I’m losing my perception of time,” he finally stated.

“How so?” Huang replied, without seeming reaction or judgment.

There was no way to put it without telling the full truth. Hedge and he’d get some psychobabble that would be of no use to him. Tell the truth and he might finally get an answer, whether he liked it or not. “I seem to be living the same day over and over again. And I’m not talking figuratively; hell, I _know_ my life’s been stuck in a rut that way for _years._ I’m talking the same. actual. day. Friday, October 23rd, 2009. Today is the fifth time I’ve lived through this same day.”

“I see.”

“I know that’s crazy. It’s got to be something in my head, right? Something...listen, Doc, I dabbled in my fair share of illicit substances back in my pre-police days. Okay, more than my fair share,” he admitted. “So I’m worried this is some kind of long-delayed side effect or extended hallucinogenic state. Or with my family history, maybe the drugs combined with genetic predisposition have...triggered a mental breakdown, I don’t know.”

“Have you been feeling particularly stressed or depressed recently?”

“No. I mean, nothing more so than my usual bleak outlook on the world,” John replied.

“Any recent changes in your sleeping habits, appetite, ability to focus at work...”

“No, nothing. Nothing at all,” John cut him off. “I mean, the more anxious I’m getting about this the less I want to eat. But this came on suddenly, completely out of nowhere.”

“Well, I should begin with the mini-mental state examination. That measures cognitive impairment as a first step in testing for dementia, among other conditions.”

“Like you performed on my uncle Andrew,” John remembered.

“Yes. The test is simple and won’t take very long. Beyond that, I’d have to recommend a complete neurological work-up, followed by brain imaging. That way we can make sure we’re not dealing with something of a physical origin.”

“Like a brain tumor?”

“It’s a possibility.”

John nodded. That agreed with his own line of thought from earlier. “Okay, whatever I’ve got to do, I’ll do. Can we get that all done today?”

“One thing at a time,” George said with a small laugh. “I’d have to order the medical tests to be performed elsewhere, and I do have to get that interview done later today. Look, let’s start with the simple cognitive tests I can perform here this morning, all right? And we’ll plan a course of action from there.”

“Okay. Fine.”

* * *

The MMSE proved a cake-walk for John, even with his general state of anxiety and nervousness. Counting backwards, recalling a short list of items, copying a diagram... Huang said he passed it with perfect score. The doctor then continued with basic questions and testing of John’s sensory and motor systems, simple reflexes and responses to look for major neurological issues. But in the end he could only conclude, “I’m not noting anything out of the ordinary, John, nothing I can test for without ordering an MRI or CT-Scan, bloodwork, or an EEG. But even there...”

“Yes?” John prompted.

Even the doctor looked puzzled at this point. “Hallucinations related to brain injuries or diseases tend to be specific in type, and not as you describe. And not without other concurrent symptoms. For instance, brain tumors commonly cause hallucinations of taste, smell, or vision and I’d expect you would be experiencing other symptoms such as headaches, nausea...some notable impairment of cognitive status. And while dementia can cause hallucinations, it tends to happen in later stages of the disease, not early onset, and not on its own.”

John contemplated this, and then tossed out, “Schizophrenia?”

“Onset rarely occurs after the age of forty-five. And besides the delusional thinking, you don’t appear to be exhibiting any of the symptoms I’d normally associate with the condition. All that said, I would still recommend those medical tests we discussed to eliminate certain possibilities, and find out what could be going on.”

George opened his desk and pulled out a prescription pad. He began scribbling quickly, asked John for his birth date, and then ripped the small blue sheet off to hand to him. The writing was typical indecipherable physician scrawl, as if intentionally meant to be understood by only another within the profession. “I can put a call in to a friend who works at a radiology lab in Union Square if you want to keep this quiet, and also check his scheduling availability. They’re open late so I could even meet you there after hours tonight to review the results right away.”

“That would be...yeah, okay,” John agreed, although already he was having doubts, second thoughts. He had a feeling Huang was grasping at straws as much as he was, given nothing seemed amiss in his general mental state or functionality.

And what if he got tested later today and they _did_ find something? He’d still only get up the next morning and...what? Have to go through this same thing again? All the questions, the embarrassment, the poking and prodding? “How about I call you later, in case something comes up on my end,” he said, getting to his feet and eager now to leave.

“Of course. I do need to prepare for this other interview now.” Huang seemed to sense John’s hesitance and second thoughts, and added, “John—maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Relax. Take a break until later. I know you said this isn’t about being stuck in a rut, but there’s something to consider about switching up your routine. Seeking out what it is that’s missing from your life.”

“Maybe. Maybe tomorrow,” he said grimly. “Thanks, Doc.”

John left before Huang could say anything else. He shoved the prescription in his jacket pocket and headed back out in the direction of the bullpen, not sure if he felt any better or worse for their discussion. Not sure what he’d end up doing later.

“Where've you been?” Fin demanded, looking up from his pile of paperwork as John approached their desks.

“Like I said, had some research to do.”

“On what?”

“Old case. What is this now, I have to report my every move to you?” John snapped, yanking his chair back with anger before taking a seat. The room grew uncomfortably quiet and he could feel other eyes on them. “Sorry,” he apologized to Fin, propping his elbows on his desk and dropping his head into his hands with a sigh.

“You okay, John?”

The genuine concern in Fin’s voice pulled him out of his gloom, the way he said his first name instead of calling him ‘Munch’, like he still did half the time. “No, I'm not. But don’t mind me. Here, give me one of those files. Not fair to leave you to all this paperwork alone.”

They worked on with dull resolution through the afternoon, John quiet as he could do these files on autopilot by now. He was still debating whether to go through with those tests this evening or not, so preoccupied that he didn’t notice until much later in the afternoon how quiet Fin was being as well. More so than the last few Fridays they’d been through, and occasionally John caught him looking across their desks at him with an almost guilty or lost expression.

 _He wasn’t like this the first Friday, was he? Or the second one. Or..._ John was starting to make himself dizzy sorting the days out, trying to recall how different or not Fin had been behaving each day. Were the changes in response to John’s increasing distress and moodiness?

“John?”

Again with the concerned, questioning voice, and it was too much for him. John glanced at his desk clock; four p.m. and he’d breezed through all the work which had taken him much longer the first few times around. Suddenly he had to get out of there. He needed some fresh air, needed _something..._

“I’m fine. I just...think I'm gonna head home early if you don’t mind.” He got to his feet, grabbed his coat. The captain could yell at him for leaving early if Monday ever came. Right now he didn’t give a damn. “I’ll see you—whenever.” _See you the next today, and the today after that, and who the hell knows how many more todays to come if this never ends._

John walked, not caring where he was walking, not thinking it mattered at all. He didn’t want to go home, he only knew that much. He ended up in a bar, one he’d never been in before and where he could disappear into anonymity, nursing a beer, then a second, debating. Eventually he got out his phone and sent Huang a quick text:

_Not ready tonight. Maybe next time around._

He took a cab home after a few more drinks, not trusting his navigational skills to the subway. When he got home he fell onto his bed, not bothering to undress or do anything else. What did it matter? These clothes would be clean and ready for him come morning. He’d wake up under the covers and groaning again to that six a.m. alarm.

His last thought before he fell into unconsciousness was of Fin, the sound of his voice a soothing comfort. A fleeting wish crossed his mind that it would be so nice to have Fin there beside him, to tell him that things were somehow going to be okay.

 


	5. We Have a Case!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although this Friday begins like those before it, there is something different: Fin and John actually catch a case instead of being stuck doing paperwork.

**Day 5**

Fin woke up on Friday with a string of curses. Last-same day, he had taken drastic measures to break this loop. He had gotten home and stomped his alarm clock into smithereens, then his phone, then taken a baseball bat to his TV (he’d replace all of them if this worked). He even smashed his computer, just in case anything that could display a date was somehow cursed. Surrounded by electrical parts—literally thousands of them—he’d bagged them up and taken a trip to the Hudson.

He’d shaken the pieces into the river, hoping the current would wash them away from whatever field of influence was affecting him. Having done that, he’d checked himself into a hotel, in case it was something to do with his apartment. He’d told the receptionist firmly _no_ wake-up—if he overslept, he’d pay the extra day. Once in the hotel, he’d smashed that alarm clock too, disconnected the phone and chucked the base off the balcony, and smashed the TV. If all this managed to break the cycle, he’d _gladly_ pay damages.

But it was Friday morning again, he was in his own bed, his fucking alarm clock was blaring, his phone was perfectly fine on his nightstand. Fin knew that, if he checked, his TV and computer would be fine, too.

Fin hauled himself out of bed and swore creatively all the way to the bathroom. Clearly, this fucking loop was going to take something else to break. He pissed, showered, and shaved, like every morning, again thinking about trying a day without his beard. It’d be back by next-same day—more destructive things he’d done had mended themselves, he thought sourly, thinking of the motherfucking alarm clock.

He wondered if the hotel was going to call him at some point demanding compensation for all the electronics he had ruined, but he doubted it. No one but him seemed to remember these iterations. It made him feel lonely, even though he spent most of the day surrounded by people. At this point, everyone else was like a robot, redoing their steps time after time.

Fin wouldn’t wish this insanity on anyone, but there was a part of him that wished someone else was in the loop with him, so he wouldn’t be so alone. John, maybe, he was close to John, closer than maybe he should be.

John would have ideas, too, on how the fuck to get out of this, even if all of his ideas on how Fin got _into_ would be nutty and paranoid.

* * *

John woke up with a resigned sigh. Like he thought, he _was_ in his pjs, under the covers, with his alarm going off insistently. John lay back into the pillows and pressed his hands against his eyes, tears threatening to spill. He had the feeling whatever fancy tricks he tried in an attempt to break this loop wouldn’t matter; he was going to live this day over and over again until something happened _to_ him. He usually was more in control of his fate, but he felt utterly hopeless right now.

Is this how his father had felt? he wondered. How his uncle Andrew felt? Was he going down this road with some cruel cosmic joke being played on him so he headed into pseudodementia of depression faster relative to how everyone else perceived time?

He wished there was someone he could talk to about this, but his conversation with Huang yesterday had just scared him. What could anyone else do? He wished he could talk to Fin about this, but he didn’t want to deal with the pitying looks and worry. What if it made Fin think less of him? No, Fin couldn’t know.

John listlessly made his coffee—he was so low-energy today, he desperately needed it, though he skipped the yogurt, unable to face the prospect of eating. He wondered if he could die of starvation in the loop. He wondered how many iterations before he lost his mind and joined Uncle Andrew in the funny farm.

He bumped into Fin at the elevators again and gave a desultory hello. Fin gave him a worried look. He’d been worried about John—each iteration of this day, John’s mood seemed to get worse. He wondered if he was supposed to react to that, but he was irritable today and wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart, even if he _was_ worried. In any case, the next-same day would come, John would have no memory of their conversation, and Fin could start all over again.

But he missed the sarcasm and cynicism—this low-energy moodiness scared him. John didn’t talk about his family, but Fin remembered John’s uncle.

Maybe the next-same day he’d say something to John. He cared about him, deeply, and it hurt to see him like this.

Fin sighed in the elevator and said, “You okay, John?” It didn’t have to be a deep, heart-to-heart, just a show of concern.

John nodded. “I’m fine, thanks. Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

Fin knew that was a lie, but he didn’t push it. If John needed him, he’d let Fin know, and Fin wasn’t so worried yet that he felt he needed to push John into talking. Besides, he was still in a fucking pissy mood.

“Guess it’s another paperwork day,” Fin said as they got off the elevator. He flopped into his seat and reach for a file, giving it a death glare. Seven minutes before Cragen told them to do paperwork.

John also reached for a file, and Fin got the ball ready. Cragen came out of the office two minutes early and said, “You two, we’ve got a call.”

Fin and John looked up in shock. This wasn’t how the day went. “Seriously?” Fin asked.

“I know you were looking forward to a quiet day, Fin,” Cragen began, and Fin and John both cut him off.

“Bring it on!” Fin said happily, glad to finally not have to spend the day doing the _same fucking paperwork_.

“I was hoping for a case,” John said at the same time.

Everyone stared at them, which they missed, as they were giving each other a strange look.

John was thinking that the first few iterations of this goddamn day, Fin had said something about hoping they _don’t_ catch anything too involved because they could finally use a quiet weekend.

“What’s the call?” Fin asked finally.

“Couple having sex in the aisle of a store while their six-year-old acted as a lookout. No security cameras, the manager didn’t actually see them having sex, and the witness who did is long gone. It’d be nice if you two could get a confession to make it tidy for the DA.”

* * *

John and Fin were interviewing the female half of the couple, Ashley. “You always have sex in public?” John asked.

The woman gave him a disgusted look. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Fin rolled his eyes. John gave him a look to keep him quiet. “You’re right, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

She sniffed.

“Come on, Ashley.”

Ashley just shook her head and turned away from them.John sighed and raised an eyebrow at Fin.

“Public I sorta get, the thrill,” Fin said, “but in front of your six-year-old? That’s sick.”

“Like I said, I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh, I understand it’s sick and illegal.”

“For most of human history, we lived in giant communes, no privacy. People had sex in front of everyone—their friends, their parents, their children. It’s perfectly natural and was how sex was taught for hundreds of thousands of years.”

Fin shot John an incredulous look. If anyone could rebut this level of crazy, it was John.

“Yes,” John said without missing a beat, “and the second humanity figured out how to warm multiple rooms of a house, they fled to separate bedrooms and never looked back. Sex has been a private endeavor ever since the human race figured out the concept of privacy.”

Fin hid a smile—of course John had known that.

Ashley scoffed.

John leaned forward and pressed on. “You’re hiding behind a centuries-gone explanation for public indecency and endangering the welfare of a minor. Did you do it?”

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” she insisted.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” John said. “Was that the only time you had sex in front of your kid?”

“I’m not talking to you anymore. You just don’t get it.”

“I partook in plenty of free love in my time, too,” John said. “But I left the kids out of it. You ever involve him?”

Ashley looked disgusted. “No! We’d _never_ touch a kid! He just watched. You can asked him!”

“Thank you, we will,” Fin said.

* * *

John and Fin entered the room where the six-year-old, Danny, was. They were surprised that he had such a normal name, not something straight out of the ’60s. John remembered some of the crazier names his friends had come up with in drug-induced hazes.

They folded themselves into the tiny wooden chairs around the table next to Danny, who was playing with a toy car.

“Vroom, vroom,” Danny said, pushing the car around the table.

“Hi, Danny,” John said, picking up a car and driving it around the table, too. “I’m John, I’m a police officer. This is my friend, Fin. He’s a police officer too.”

Danny looked up at them. “Do you have badges?” he asked. “I’m supposed to look at your badges, Mom says.”

“You bet, buddy,” Fin said. “That’s very smart.”

He and John pulled out their badges and handed them to Danny, who studied them seriously. He handed them back and looked at the car John was idly pushing around. “It should be a police car,” he said, reaching into the bucket.

“Okay,” John said, accepting the car. “Danny, we want to talk to you about what happened today. Is that okay?”

Danny shrugged. “I guess.”

“Can you tell me about it?” John asked softly.

Fin let him take the lead—he wasn’t bad with little kids, but John was definitely better than him, softer. And it always warmed Fin’s heart watching John with a little kid, an emotion he never looked at too closely.

“I was told to keep an eye out,” Danny said, “and tell them if someone was coming. But I got bored and stopped watching, and Mom and Dad got caught. Am I in trouble?”

“No, buddy, not at all. We just want to know more about your parents. You have to do that a lot for them?”

Danny shook his head. “Today was the first time. But I gotta watch. They say it’s normal, but I’m not supposed to tell. I don’t like it. It’s gross!”

John nodded. “They ever touch you, big guy?”

Danny shook his head. “No! That’s for grown-ups. But I don’t wanna watch anymore.”

John rested his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I know, buddy, I know.”

He unfolded himself from the tiny wooden chair with difficulty, wincing as his knees and back cracked. Fin joined him. “I’ll call ACS,” Fin said, glancing back at the boy.

* * *

That had taken up most of their day, booking the mother and the father, finding a place for Danny for the night, and taking care of the paperwork for this case.

John sighed heavily and looked at Fin. He wondered if he should ask Fin out for a bite to eat tonight. On the one hand, he didn’t want to be alone, but on the other, what on Earth would they talk about? Even around Fin right now, he felt so very, very alone. He watched Fin as Fin tidied his desk and smiled sadly. This stupid fucking loop. He was used to talking to his friend, and it felt like it had been ages since he had—although, for Fin, probably not, he thought wryly.

They walked to the elevators together, and Fin looked at John like he was waiting for something. Fin had decided that tonight, he was going to say yes to John—he’d run out of ideas for drastic actions to take to break the loop, and he could use a low-key night with a good friend.

John didn’t bother asking tonight. He couldn’t take the rejection again, not today. “See you Monday,” he said, and Fin frowned at his back. Now he _was_ worried about John, really worried. They usually at least texted over weekends, if not getting together for some time.

“Yea, see you Monday,” Fin answered, surprised not to be asked to dinner, worried about how low-energy John was, and worried what the next-same day of the loop would bring.

* * *

 

John lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had to do something about this. If not the loop, the mood. He resolved to do something, anything, to get back to his usual self. He should take this loop as an opportunity, he thought, to catch up on all the reading he had wanted to do. But it was a depressing thought. All alone, just his books and people doing the same things day after day.

Although, bizarrely, today had been different.

And he’d make tomorrow different, too.

Fin decided to watch Groundhog Day tonight. He absolutely fucking hated that movie, but maybe it would give him ideas about what to do to break this loop. The movie wasn’t a perfect parallel—the day in the movie had never changed, like today had—but it made him think he needed to solve a problem to get out of the loop.

He went to bed wondering what the problem could be. His thoughts drifted to John. He hoped John was okay tonight. He cared so much, it hurt sometimes, which surprised him. His last thought, before he fell asleep, was just of John, before all of this had started, a happy memory, and he drifted off with a smile on his face.

 


	6. In This Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes off from work in the morning to pay someone a visit. When he arrives at the 16th, it turns out someone _else_ has come there looking for _him_.

**Day 6**

John woke to the alarm that he hadn’t set and knew it was Friday again. A check of the date on his cell phone confirmed it. He turned off the alarm but remained in bed for a while, thinking.

Last night he had resolved to make this Friday different. And this morning, he knew what he was going to do to make that happen.

Something that wouldn’t be easy, but it never was. He was going to pay his uncle Andrew a visit.

John showed, shaved, and got dressed without further delay. He wanted to get out the door and on the road before morning traffic became an issue. His car was parked a few blocks away, and at least he didn’t have to worry about losing his parking space if he used it today; no doubt, tomorrow morning, it would be back where he'd originally parked it days ago.

When Andrew had first been committed to Rockland Psychiatric Center, John had been glad for the location—if not for the reasons behind it. The hospital wasn’t even a thirty minute drive on a light traffic day from John’s apartment in Hudson Heights. In fact it was a faster drive across the GW and up the Palisades Parkway to Rockland than it was most days for him to get downtown to the 16th Precinct for work. John had figured that would make it easy for him to visit and keep an eye on Andrew’s care. He didn’t trust the staff in such facilities any further than he and his bony ass (as Fin always called it) could throw them. And even if Andrew lost all memory of John—and of everything he himself was and ever had been—John was determined not to do the same as far as his uncle was concerned. He wasn’t going to have him locked away and forgotten about by his entire family like so often happened to the elderly and ill.

And John _did_ try to visit, as often as he could. Andrew was the only relative John had in New York—which, granted, wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing. John’s younger brother, Bernie, was too busy with his own family and taking care of their aging mother in Baltimore to worry about him, let alone their eccentric, bachelor uncle. And John’s older brother David had drifted out of their lives after their father’s death. He'd already left home by then, only came back for the funeral...no doubt to make sure the son of a bitch was really dead.

John had always felt a kinship for Andrew, who had tried the best he could to be a father to him and Bernie after the suicide. In his younger days Andrew had been a real character: quick-witted and adventurous, encouraging John’s love for reading, learning, and challenging the status quo. He’d once told John he thought of him and Bernie as the sons he’d never had, and that was something that still stuck with John, all these many years later.

John made it to Rockland about ten of nine, before visiting hours even began for the day. He let the front desk know he was there to see Andrew, and expected him to be available for visitation as soon as possible.

“Of course, Sergeant Munch. I’ll let the nurses on duty in Andrew’s ward know,” the receptionist told him.

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see me, as usual,” he said with a smirk. She smiled back at him, almost a little flirtatiously—and not for the first time. Rhonda, he knew her name was, from the occasions they had talked before. A small voice in the back of his head tried to suggest he should ask her out on a date. She was attractive, not too young for him, and seemed to have a smart wit about her. You no doubt had to, in order to work in a place like this.

But these days he didn’t really see the point of it, time-loop or not. Beyond the occasional dinner or theater date that went nowhere, he didn’t have the enthusiasm for seeking out love—or even casual lust—the way he used to. Seeing the last woman he’d started to fall for blown apart into a thousand bloody pieces had put a damper on his heart that had never lifted. And over the ten years since then, he’d managed to convince himself that was a good thing.

_Love is wasted on the young, and too much work for the old and cynical._

With a half-hour or so to kill, he headed outside to wander the expansive grounds for a while. He hoped it might clear his mind and some of the darker clouds from his brain. But the campus surrounding the hospital was not exactly the kind of environment to elevate the mind and spirit.

Rockland had been built as a massive insane asylum to house thousands, young and old, almost a self-contained city in its vast size and operations. But that had been many decades before today. Now it housed only several hundred severely ill patients like Andrew, and the older abandoned buildings had fallen into various states of neglect and disrepair. John had read online about the asylum’s darker past, before care for the mentally ill became more compassionate and modernized. Walking around the crumbling, vine-covered buildings, many fenced in and dead-bolted shut, did little to improve his mood. In fact they seemed a curious reflection of his own current mental state: rotting away from the inside out, falling apart to the passage of time while they themselves remained frozen, unchanging...forgotten.

He could only take so much and was thankful when his phone alerted him it was nine-thirty a.m. and he could see his uncle. He’d texted Fin earlier to let him know he’d be in late today, so his partner wouldn’t worry about him. Even if they ended up with a case this particular Friday, like they had last on the previous Friday, it had been a straightforward one. Fin would be able to handle it on his own, or with Cragen, Huang or Benson perhaps helping in his absence.

One of the nursing staff escorted him to Andrew’s room after he took the elevator to fifth floor. “He’s been very calm and quiet recently,” she explained. “Although he’s beginning to reject food with increasing frequency and continuing to lose weight.”

 _Which suggests he’s entering the later stages of his dementia,_ John knew. That meant Andrew might not have that much time left, unless John agreed to putting him on a feeding tube...and that was the _last_ thing he was going to do. He knew his uncle wouldn’t want that. He had a right to die—if not with the clarity of his younger mind, then at least without prolonging his mental and physical anguish.

“If you need anything, just hit the call button by the door.”

“Thank you, I will,” John said as she left the two of them alone in Andrew’s room. Tiny, sterile, and institutional, it was about as far from homey as you could imagine. The only personal touches were some framed photographs John had brought over, hoping they might stir some fond recollections of the past. A few of Andrew’s favorite books as well, but they only sat collecting dust on top of his dresser.

“Hey, uncle Andrew.” John kneeled down in front of the older man, where he sat in a wheelchair, hoping to catch the focus of his distant eyes for even one second. “It’s your nephew, John.” He brushed his fingers over Andrew’s hand, gauging his response to the contact. Some days he didn’t like or want to be touched at all; other days it seemed to bring him, at least momentarily, back to the world beyond his inner thoughts.

For a second, Andrew’s eyes appeared to connect with John’s, but it was hard to say what was there behind their unfocused gaze. And his papery skin felt so cold, his hand bony and thin beneath John’s fingers. Andrew had lost so much weight over the past couple years, he was almost unrecognizable as the man he’d once been. “I hope they’ve been treating you well,” John continued. “Better than a few months ago. Remember? No, I’m sure you don’t. But that’s a good thing, actually.”

John had been furious, one visit earlier in the year, to notice Andrew developing the telltale redness of pressure sores on the heels of his feet. But raising hell with the staff as only John could had made sure Andrew received better attention since. (That, and threatening to make a call to alert the local DA’s office that an investigation into patient negligence here wouldn’t be amiss.)

John got up to pull over a chair, to sit next to Andrew and look out at the view from his window. At least from here, those decrepit facilities nearby weren't visible; his windows faced away from the old part of the campus. “Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve come here. Things have been...busy, but they always are. So that’s no real excuse.”

John talked on, giving Andrew an update on the general state of things in his life, at work, what little he’d heard from Bernie and his mother about the rest of the family. Talking just for talking’s sake; he could see no real response or reaction to his words. Having exhausted the tedium of trivial matters, John fell quiet for a minute. He sat there and took it all in...wondered if, soon enough, he might not be the one sitting in Andrew’s place. Lost in his own head (if he wasn’t already), alone save for the occasional visitor whom he wouldn't even recognize, to whom he couldn’t even respond or react.

Suddenly he had an image of such a fate clear as day in his mind, Fin of all people being the one to come visiting him. It would be Fin, and no one else, wouldn’t it? After all, who else did he have in his life now?

Bored of talking about his tedious life, John stayed for only a short while longer. He tried reading aloud to Andrew from an old paperback book he’d found in the hospital lounge. It was a bland, predictable mystery, but it was something to pass the minutes and make him feel like he was providing some form of useful companionship. To Andrew or to himself, he couldn’t be quite sure. John wasn’t sure about anything any longer, if any of this was real or nothing but an endless nightmare or hallucination he couldn’t shake off.

* * *

After his morning visit to Andrew, it was almost a relief to return to the familiar halls of the 16th precinct—even if that meant spending the rest of his day repeating that goddamned paperwork one more time. He came up on the elevator at the same instant as Olivia appeared to be returning from a lunch run. She was carrying a take-out bag from one of their regular soup-and-sandwich places.

“Hey, John. So you made it in today after all.”

“Had some things to take care of this morning. Got enough in there to share?” he asked, leaning in to try to get a whiff of what was in the bag. The aroma of chicken soup stirred his otherwise dormant appetite partly back to life.

“If you ask nicely. And if you’re good to your poor partner after what he’s been dealing with in your absence.”

John frowned. The case from yesterday’s Friday? Those parents were sick, having sex in front of their child, but not so difficult to interrogate and bring to confession. “Do I want to know?” he asked with caution.

“Probably not. But I think Fin was getting close to going homicidal if you didn’t show up soon.”

John saw the cause of Fin’s distress as soon as he stepped into the squad room.

It was his ex-wife, Gwen.

Of course she sat facing the door, while Fin was at his desk looking ready to either strangle the curly-haired woman or murder John the instant he spotted his partner.

“Gwen?! What are you doing here?” John started as he headed towards them.

Before she could answer, Fin demanded, “Where the hell’ve _you_ been all morning?”

“Personal business, like I texted you. Gwen, is everything all right?”

“No, John, things are very much _not_ all right.” Her voice wavered with anger and fear and she looked so upset she was trembling.

John cast a questioning look at Fin, who only returned it with total exasperation. “She’s been here all morning but she won’t say nothin’ to me. You gotta talk to her, man, ’cause I can’t get any work done like this.”

“You mean the same damn paperwork that—never mind,” John cut himself off, turning his attention back to Gwen. “It must be pretty serious for you to come here. Last time we spoke, you swore you never wanted to see me again.”

“And she threw a cup of tea at you,” Fin added, not so helpfully.

“Well if you ever bothered to look at your email, _John,_ I wouldn’t _have_ to come here! I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is important.” She stood up, glanced around furtively, and said to him a hushed voice, “And I can’t talk about it here with all these people watching us, listening in on every word we say.”

 _Fuck. Those emails._ He’d forgotten, the last repetition of this day or so, about the email messages from Gwen that he hadn’t once bothered to read. It seemed in this iteration of the day, she’d decided to force the matter and make sure he stopped putting them off until later.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he reassured her with a resolved sigh. He knew how to handle her when she was like this. Unfortunately it was something he'd had to do on many occasions before. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “There’s one room here that’s safe. No listening devices, no cameras, I’ve checked it top to bottom.”

“You have?”

He nodded. “It’s only used for _special_ purposes. Interrogations and meetings that must stay strictly off the record, or else...” he trailed off, leaving it up to her ample imagination to fill in the rest as she chose.

“Ooooh,” she answered, looking both nervous and relieved. She then allowed John to guide her away from Fin’s desk and toward the conference room. The two partners exchanged a brief look, one that—after all these years—communicated as much as possible without words. Fin rolled his eyes, yet also looked to John with an appreciated sympathy. John in return gave him the smallest _“what am I going to do?”_ shrug, but hoped Fin saw the gratitude he felt for having put up with Gwen all morning—and for not immediately calling him while he was out to harass him about it.

They passed Olivia and Elliot’s desks, too, as Olivia was unpacking everyone's lunches. Olivia gave him an apologetic look which John appreciated as well. Then she shot Elliot a warning glance as if to silence any smug remarks or smart-ass jokes he might have to make.

Those two had their own language between them after all these years, too. Sometimes theirs was so intense that John wondered if there wasn't something going on beneath the surface of their partnership. Given office gossip, most people at the 16th wondered the same thing about Liv and El. There might even be a betting pool over when and if they would finally hook up—if they hadn't secretly done so already.

“Okay, Gwen, we’re alone now,” John assured her after they entered the room and he closed the door behind them. “And it’s safe to talk here.”

“You’re sure.”

“I check it every week, to be certain. This room is clean.”

“You look terrible, John,” she said, apropos of nothing.

“Thanks. But I assume you didn’t come here to make observations on my state of physical decrepitude.”

“No, but I mean it, John. Are you sleeping okay?” She stepped closer, frowning and reaching up to touch his cheek. “Something’s not right about you, I can tell. I always could tell, you know.”

“I know, but it’s not important.” John backed away and indicated for her to take a seat at the table. He took a chair facing her once she did. “You’re here to tell me about something _you’re_ having trouble with, not the other way around.”

“But...what if they’re somehow connected?” she said, leaning across the table to continue scrutinizing him.

John paused, having to consider her paranoid words more than he normally ever would. Was there any chance she might be correct? Could she actually know something about what he was going through? “What’s this about, Gwen?” he asked in all seriousness, leaning over the table to mirror her posture.

She stared him down and insisted, “You. First.”

John sighed and rubbed his temples. Between Andrew and Gwen, this iteration of today was about to give him a migraine. He could use a strong cup of tea to soothe his nerves. “All right,” he said, sitting back, deciding to tell her the truth. It's not like anyone would believe her if she spread it around. “You want to know what’s going on with me? I’ve been living the same day over and over again for a week straight now. And it’s beginning to mess with my head.”

“You’re stuck in a temporal dislocation?”

“Some kind of a...time loop, yes.”

She gasped and also sat back, wide-eyed. “This _is_ serious.”

“No shit!”

“And it’s on the same day that I come here to see you... This _has_ to mean something.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” John said. “It’s not a _perfect_ loop. Although the date never changes and no one else seems aware of the repetition, there seem to be subtle differences in what happens to me. This is the first time you’ve come to see me, for instance.”

“Which implies cracks in the stability of the space-time continuum,” she said with a sense of awe.

John pounded his fist on the table, trying to pull her back away from her flight of fancy. “This isn’t a fucking episode of _Star Trek_ , Gwen. This is my life we’re talking about!”

“And real life is often stranger and more terrifying than fiction. You and I both know that.”

“Yeah, sure. But I’m guessing that’s _not_ why you’re here today, is it? Unless...You haven’t been stuck in a loop, too, have you?” He actually hoped that she would tell him yes. It would feel so much better to know someone else was experiencing the same thing that he was...even if that someone was Gwen.

She shook her head. “No, not that I can remember. I needed to talk to you about something else. He’s in danger, John, and we have to help him.”

Again, the sudden shift in conversation left John’s head spinning. “He who? Who are you talking about?”

“Peter Harrison. He’s in trouble and he needs my help. _Our_ help.”

“Peter...Peter _Harrison_?” It took John a few seconds to realize who she was referring to. “The guy who tried to kill my partner and Elliot?!”

“That wasn’t his fault. He was running scared. And you _tricked_ me into telling you where he was! He never would have panicked or tried to hurt anyone if you hadn’t done that.”

“He’d already killed one woman, Gwen. And he turned himself in, eventually. You can’t still think he’s some kind of a hero or advocate for truth.”

“I know Peter. He’s a good man.”

“You ‘know’ him. Were you sleeping with him?” John asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

_“John!”_

“Well, were you?”

“That’s none of your business! This isn’t about my sex life, this is about a threat to everyone who doesn’t blindly follow the _lies_ our government feeds us! Peter has new information he needs to get out there to the public, but he _can’t_. They won’t let him anywhere near a computer in prison!”

“Gee, I wonder why.” For fuck’s sake, John didn’t need this today, but he tried to reign in his frustration and stay calm. _Don’t panic._ “So, do tell, how has he been communicating all of this to you?”

“I have letters. He writes to me. I was going to show you some of his letters today, thinking you might understand, but...” She picked up her purse and clutched it against her chest. “Not if you’re going to treat me like this.”

“Gwen...” he started to reach across the table but she kicked her chair back and got to her feet, shaking her head.

“No. No I should have known better than to think I could trust you. I’m leaving.”

“Let me take you home—” John started to suggest, getting to his feet as well.

“Stay away from me! I’m leaving and I’m not coming back. Not today. Not any other repetition of today, I don’t care how many more weeks or months or _years_ you live through this day! In fact I hope you stay stuck in this loop forever, John, and I won’t _ever_ come back to help you!”

It so happened that Gwen’s outburst occurred just as Fin had decided to check on how his partner was making out with her. In fact Fin had even made a cup of tea to bring to John, having a hunch his partner could use one. So he’d opened the door, his soft knock unheard over their raised voices. Opened it in time to hear her last words about...

_...living through the same day?_

Fin stood there dumbstruck as she stormed past him. He stared at John, who looked about ready to curl up and die.

“Did...Gwen just say something ’bout you being stuck in a loop?” Fin asked, needing to be certain he’d heard her properly.

John shook his head furiously and made as if to walk out and follow her. “Don’t mind what she said, it’s only her usual nonsensical rantings and I should go—”

“No. You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Fin insisted, putting his free hand on John’s arm to stop him from leaving. “John. No lies. I don’t care how crazy it sounds. _Are you_?”

“Am I what?”

“Repeating this day, over and over again. Friday, October 23. ’Cause I am. This is the seventh time I’ve been through this same goddamned day.”

John didn’t say anything for a long moment, instead staring at Fin in disbelief. “Only little things are different, now and then?” he said in a quiet tone, and Fin nodded.

“Like Gwen showing up today. Or the last time through we had a case, after every other day of doin’ nothing but paperwork.”

“The couple having sex in front of their kid?”

“In the store,” Fin confirmed.

“Oh my God, Fin. Oh God. It’s not just me.” John sunk down on the edge of the table, looking as if he were about to collapse from exhaustion.

“I know. Oh, man.” Fin sat down next to John on the edge of the table, wanting nothing more than to grab John in a great big hug. He couldn’t quite decide if he were greatly relieved or more puzzled than ever, knowing that someone else was stuck in this loop with him. He finally handed John that cup of tea he’d made and said, “Here. Think I need something stronger than tea, myself.”

“Thanks. And I’m not far behind you.” John took a sip, then let out a deep sigh. “I thought I’ve been going crazy, Fin. Completely over the edge. Like my uncle. That’s where I went this morning. And the other morning I went to Huang for a mental exam. He ordered a bunch of diagnostic tests but I chickened out before going through them all.”

“Yeah, well, don’t bother. I went to Melinda the other same-day. Had her run blood tests, brain imaging. She said everything was normal.” John appeared surprised and Fin shrugged. “I guess between the two of us we’ve at least ruled out a lot of logical possibilities so far.”

“Maybe. But where does that leave us? Why is this happening? Is anyone else stuck in this loop but they’re not saying anything, because they’re afraid to talk to us like we didn’t talk to each other?”

Fin hadn’t even considered that possibility. “Could be. I guess we could try to drop hints and find out, but...I have a feeling it’s only you and me. I’ve noticed you acting a little weirder every day through. Everyone else around here seems like their same old selves.”

“That's true.”

“Surprised you don’t have some big conspiracy theory about this yet, John.” _Because for once I might actually believe you if you did._

“ _Yet_ being the operative word. But this isn’t something that I’ve ever heard or read about before. We’re in completely uncharted waters, my friend.” John smiled grimly at Fin. “But at least we’ve got each other now to figure it out together.”

“Yeah, so. What now?”

“Well, I assume Gwen is long gone...and I’m not too concerned about her at this point. She had another crazy idea in her head, but nothing dangerous or serious.”

“Small favor, at least.” Fin sighed. “I got these damned files to finish typing up for the captain, think we could do ’em in our sleep by now. Maybe we get through those as fast as possible and go get a drink tonight, try to figure this out some more?”

“Finally sick of that game on the television, are you?”

“I may never watch another basketball game in my life at this point.”

“If we never get out of this day, you might be right.”

* * *

They ended up hitting one of their usual hangouts near the 16th for dinner and drinks that evening. Nothing fancy, just an old Irish pub that made a decent burger and the liquor was cheap. They arrived early enough that even being a Friday night, they were able to find a quiet booth in one of the upstairs rooms, somewhere they could talk without having to shout over the bar patrons and loud music.

“One night I tried unplugging my alarm, moving it to another room,” John told Fin, as they were recounting how they’d each tried disrupting the loop so far.

“That ain’t nothing,” Fin said. “I smashed my alarm with a hammer. My phone, too. Dumped ’em in the Hudson and even checked into a hotel for the night. Smashed their electronics too. Didn’t do a damn thing. Still woke up in my own damn bed the next same-day.”

John laughed at the extremes Fin had gone to. “You’ve been far more creative than me. I just tried drinking myself into oblivion the other night. Only meant I had to live through the next same-day feeling like crap. How come everything resets every day except for how shitty I feel, which is only getting worse?”

“Dunno. Maybe physical things that happen to us don’t reset, even if everything else does?” Fin filed that observation away before he drank too much tonight to remember it next same-day. He scratched his chin and said, “Keep thinkin’ about shaving my goatee off to see if it’ll grow back on its own. Just to see what I’d look like without it after all these years.”

“Don’t do that, it would look...”

“What?”

John glanced away for a moment, as if embarrassed by his words. “...Not like you,” he finished.

Fin considered that, then shrugged. “Whatever. Doubt _that’s_ gonna break us out of the loop. So what do you think we should do next?”

“I don’t know. We could start by working together tomorrow to break up the routine. We’ve both done minor different things, the last few same-days.” John had started using Fin’s term for their repetitive Fridays. “What if we both disrupt the cycle together, and I mean _really_ disrupt it. Maybe that could be enough to set things back to normal? That’s sort of what Huang said I should consider, at least in an abstract sense.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Not sure. Have to sleep on it.” John yawned, and finished off the last of his beer. “I’m too exhausted tonight to think straight.”

“Yeah, same here.” They might still be stuck in this loop but Fin had a feeling he would at last get a better night’s sleep tonight, knowing he wasn’t alone in this endless cycle. “Hey, maybe just the fact we’ve figured we’re both in this could be enough to break the loop?”

“I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. But do you mind if I call it a night?”

“No, I’m ready to head out too.” They settled up their tab and headed downstairs, then out into the street. “You driving home, catchin’ a cab or taking the subway?” Fin asked.

“Subway. I’m sober enough I don’t think I’ll miss my stop, but not enough to get behind the wheel.”

Fin nodded and said, “I’ll walk with you to the station.”

 


	7. I'm Batman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that John and Fin realize they're in this together, they decide to have a little fun today—largely at their coworkers' expense.

**Day 7**

Fin woke up. It was Friday again. Apparently, finding out John was stuck in the loop too wasn’t enough to break them out of it. He had smashed his alarm clock, just as a matter of habit, but it was still blaring at him. He hauled himself out of bed, more cheerful today than he had been for the past seven same-days. He hadn’t _wanted_ to subject anyone else to this insanity, but it was nice to have his best friend back.

He padded into the bathroom and considered his goatee again. The knowledge that John didn’t want him to shave it off, that John liked how it looked, kept him from really even thinking about it today. He brushed his teeth, humming tunelessly. Today was gonna be a better day.

* * *

John woke up in a positively happy mood. Just the knowledge that he wasn’t alone was enough to buoy him, and he looked forward to seeing Fin today. He had missed Fin this past week of same-day iterations.

He got ready for work and actually ate his yogurt this morning. While he did, he thought about what they could do today. He felt like being outrageous.

They met at the elevators and gave each other a knowing smile. “What should we try today?” John asked.

Fin shrugged. “I’m saying whatever pops into my head. If it breaks this loop, I will apologize and take the consequences. If not, at least we get a laugh.”

“Sounds like fun,” John answered, heading to his desk. “I’m certainly up for it.”

He reached for a file, figuring it was likely a paperwork day. By now, the two of them could finish these off in a couple of hours.

Liv and Elliot came in, bickering about their case. They really were like an old married couple, John thought, and the thought he suppressed so often around them he wasn’t going to now. He lobbed their ball at Fin’s head to get Fin’s attention. Fin looked up, and John turned to Liv and Elliot.

“ _When_ will you two finally fuck?” John demanded, staring the two of them down.

Liv and Elliot fell silent, giving John a shocked look. Elliot stammered something, and Liv gave John a considering look. “As soon as you and Fin do,” she answered.

Elliot gave her a look. “Liv, did you ever think about it?”

“Sometimes,” Liv admitted. “But you’re married,” she pointed out. “Maybe we had a chance when you and Kathy were separated, but I’m not breaking up your marriage, and I’m not settling for a fuck, especially since it means you’re cheating on Kathy. I like her, El.”

Fin was biting back laughter—he had often wanted to ask Liv and Elliot the same damn thing. Liv’s statement about him and John wormed into his brain, and he pushed it away. Nah, she was just giving as good as she got.

“What the hell’s gotten into you, John?” Liv demanded.

“You two,” John answered, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “Ah, never mind me, had an awful night.”

John took one look at the file and decided, _fuck it_ , he was not doing this one more time. He took a sheet of paper from it and carefully folded it into a paper airplane, launching it at Fin. Fin laughed and within a minute, one was bouncing off John’s head.

“Guys, those are _case files_!” Liv protested.

“We can always unfold them,” Fin replied unrepentantly. “Hey John, I bet I can make mine go further.”

“You’re on!” John answered, ripping a sheet out from the file and very carefully folding a masterpiece of a paper airplane. He waited for Fin to be done, too, then they simultaneously launched theirs. They arced and looped through the squad room, John’s landing first several feet away. Fin’s swooped a little further.

Fin raised his arms in triumph. “Woohoo!”

John scowled. “I demand a rematch.”

“Sure, but I’m just gonna beat you again.”

They folded more paper airplanes, this time out of witness statements. It wasn’t like the loop was going to be broken today and they were irrevocably destroying these files.

John sent his flying through the air, Fin’s not far behind.

They landed together in front of a newcomer, who had just arrived. John and Fin put on their best “we’re totally working here” looks until they saw who it was.

Gwen had come back.

John wondered if she was now in the loop, too, and if she remembered the previous same-day, but she started into the same rigmarole she had the previous same-day. John sighed and started to lead her towards a room. At least this time they could avoid all talks about the loop. He didn’t know why he still cared, why he still felt responsible, but he did.

Fin stood up too.

Gwen glared at him. “You are _not_ invited,” she said pointedly. “I haven’t forgotten how you eavesdropped on our conversation last time, and you’re one of those cops that tried to hurt Peter.”

“Tried to hurt Peter?” Fin echoed dumbly. “Lady, _he_ nearly killed _me_!”

Gwen just sniffed, and Fin decided that he wasn’t holding his tongue, John’s ex or no.

“You are one crazy, paranoid fucking bitch!” he said. “Why the fuck can’t you just leave John _alone_ already? From what I understand, _you_ left _him_ , so get your fucking claws out of him and go live in your delusional fantasy world without him!"

John raised an eyebrow—he had known Gwen drove Fin around every bend, but he hadn’t realized Fin felt so strongly about the effect it had on John.

Gwen gave Fin a hurt look and slapped him.

John stepped between them quickly. “Go, before he collars you for assaulting a cop.” Fin looked about ready to do it, too.

Gwen stormed out, and Fin called after, “And don’t come back!”

He gave John a cheeky grin. “I’ve been wanting to tell her to _shut the fuck up_ since I met her.”

John thought he should be indignant, but actually, it felt good to finally be _rid_ of that particular obligation. He laughed. “Think I’m gonna go call my other ex-wives and tell them they can all fuck themselves,” he said. “Always did mean to tell those three where they can shove it.”

“You do that,” Fin said, happy to see John out of his funk finally.

John gleefully called his ex-wives, introducing himself, then telling them with unrestrained pleasure to go fuck themselves permanently. That done, he looked at Fin and said, “I think we should go to lunch.”

“Mm,” Fin said. “There is something I wanted to do. I’ll meet you back here.”

Now that he thought about it, there was something John wanted to do, too.

* * *

They returned from lunch at around the same time. John was hauling numerous crates on wheels. He took one look at Fin and laughed. Fin was dressed in a Batman costume, except for the face mask.

“What did you do?” Fin asked.

John started opening the crates. Kitten and puppies, several dozen of them, streamed out of the crates. Fin laughed. They were adorable, and they started exploring the squad room curiously.

A couple of kittens wandered over to Fin, rubbing up against his leg. Fin bent down and picked up one of the kittens. He nuzzled the kitty, ignoring the cat hairs on his Batman costume.

John took the last cage into the Captain’s office, which was currently empty. He opened it and a parrot squawked and flew out, perching on Cragen’s chair.

John shut the door carefully and rejoined Fin, scooping a puppy up and kissing it repeatedly.

Liv and Elliot returned from lunch and took the scene in. John cuddled the puppy closer and smiled at them.

Liv sighed deeply and turned to Fin, saying as she did, “Don’t you think this—holy shit, Fin, what are you _wearing_?”

“I’m Batman,” Fin answered immediately. A puppy ran up to him and started barking excitedly. Fin reached down and scratched behind its ears.

“John, this one’s Robin,” he called.

“I thought I was Robin,” John said in a hurt tone.

“Okay, you’re Robin,” Fin answered, squeezing John’s arm. “But you need a cape.”

“I’m not wearing the tights,” John said immediately.

“Thank God for that,” Elliot muttered.

Fin looked around for something John could use as a cape. He came back with a blanket and tied it around John’s neck, careful not to disturb the puppy still in John’s arms.

“I’m naming this one Barkley,” John declared.

“Are you really going to name all these animals?” Liv asked incredulously. “By the way, _why_ are there several dozen cats and dogs here?”

“It was raining cats and dogs?” John offered.

Fin snorted, and Liv and Elliot gave them extremely unamused looks. A cat started meowing at Liv, and she sighed. “Fin, seriously, what the _fuck_?”

“I _told_ you, I’m Batman!” Fin protested. The dog at his feet barked excitedly again. “Robin, this one’s Alfred, if he can’t be Robin.”

“Not gonna object to that,” John said, letting Barkley go.

Elliot heard squawking. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

“I may have put a parrot in the Captain’s office,” John said, catching a golden retriever puppy and showing her off to Fin. “Goldie Hawn, Batman!”

“That is _terrible_ , and you should feel bad,” Fin said. “We need a case. We can’t be crime fighters without a case.”

Liv and Elliot shared a worried look. Their colleagues seemed to have gone absolutely fucking insane.

They heard a loud yowl and watched as a calico kitten pounced onto Elliot’s desk, knocking all his files over. “Come here, you feline menace!” Elliot snarled, trying to catch the kitten. He was absolutely unsuccessful, and he turned to Fin, trying to get a straight answer as to what the fuck was going on here. The calico menace took Elliot’s distraction as an opportunity to leap onto Elliot’s shoulder and dig its claws in. “Ow! Motherfucker!” Elliot screamed. “Fin, for the love of God, what is going on?”

Fin ignored him completely, petting one of the puppies, who had curled up in Fin’s seat.

“Fin!” Elliot said sharply.

Fin still ignored him.

Elliot sighed. Seriously? His _kids_ had played this game. “Fine, Batman, what the fucking hell?”

Fin finally turned. “The kittens and puppies were all Robin; I was busy getting my Batman outfit,” he said.

Cragen entered at that moment and said in a deadly quiet voice, “Who wants to explain to me what the _hell_ is going on here?”

He looked steadily at John, still in his blanket cape, with a kitten perched on his shoulders and a dog in his arms, and Fin, who was in the Batman costume, scratching a puppy behind the ears. Cragen, for now, ignored the other several dozen cats and dogs running amok.

“John, Fin?” he prompted.

“I’m Batman,” Fin said immediately. Alfred barked excitedly again.

“Fin!” Cragen snapped.

“I told you, I’m _Batman_ ,” Fin said firmly. “Can’t you tell?” He pointed to John. “And that’s Robin.”

Cragen rubbed his temples. “I am going to go to my office. I am going to wait five minutes. When I come out, I will get an explanation for this madness.”

He stormed into his office, careful not to step on any of the cats and dogs swarming around.

He slammed out of his office half a minute later. “ _Who the fuck put a parrot in my office_?” he screamed.

John looked up and grinned unrepentantly. He started laughing, and Fin joined in. The two of them ended up supporting each other, helpless with laughter.

Cragen sighed deeply. “You two, _go home_. Clearly you need a weekend badly. I don’t want to see either of you until Monday, and assuming we manage to catch these mongrels before they cause damage, I’ll even forget this happened.”

As they left, John asked Fin, “Why a Batman costume?”

Fin answered, “When Ken was little, Batman was his favorite. He always wanted to play Batman with me, and I never had the time. Well, today I’m motherfucking Batman.” He looked at John and started laughing again.

“What?”

“You didn’t take your cape off,” Fin laughed. “You still got that blanket on.”

John shrugged. “Told you I’m Robin.”

Fin’s face fell. “Ken always wanted to be Robin, ’cause I was supposed to be Batman.” He shook his mood off and gave John a speculative look. “You should be Catwoman. You’d make an awesome Catwoman.”

John raised an eyebrow and said, “You know, there’s this super fancy ball tonight. Some society shindig, read about it on Page Six.”

“You read the _Post?_ ” Fin asked, as if that were the most outrageous thing about this day.

“Read every other newspaper in town by this morning. Anyway. Wanna crash the ball as Batman and Catwoman?”

Fin laughed. “If you dress up as Catwoman, fuck yes.”

John glanced at his watch. “We’ve got a few hours still before it’s due to start. Let’s pick up my costume and figure out what to do until then. Probably will take that long to figure out how to put on the Catwoman outfit.”

“I’ll lend a hand,” Fin offered.

“I think I’ll be fine,” John said. “Aw, we should’ve brought Barkley and Alfred with us.” He heard a meow. “The hell?”

Fin looked in the cape and plucked out a kitten. “Seems we brought _someone_ with us. A cat for Catwoman.”

* * *

John finally managed to figure out all the leather bits and pieces of the Catwoman outfit. He exited his bedroom where Fin was waiting, stroking the kitten.

Fin’s mouth went dry as he looked at John, something he definitely didn’t examine. He handed John the kitten and said, “How much time do we got?”

John glanced at the clock. “It’s another two and a half hours until the party starts, and we shouldn’t crash it right at the beginning. What do you want to do, Batman?”

“You know,” Fin said speculatively. “IAB’s given us a lot of shit over the years, especially Tucker. Let’s call in and have them investigate Tucker for something. I know he’s out investigating someone today, let’s have IAB follow him.”

John grinned at Fin. “You have the best ideas. And then let’s follow IAB following Tucker. And bring the cat with us. He needs a name.”

“I’ve already dubbed her Munchkin,” Fin said. “After her new owner.”

John looked sad. “She’s not gonna be here tomorrow, is she?”

“Probably not,” Fin said. “But who knows? Maybe the loop doesn’t affect cats—they’re wily motherfuckers, and you can always go adopt Munchkin after this ends.”

“If she’s my cat, I’m not calling her Munchkin,” John said firmly. “That’s just obnoxious, naming your cat after yourself.”

Fin pouted. “Fine, you name the orange menace.”

“Hey, she’s perfectly well-behaved,” John protested. He snuggled the cat close. “Hey, Marmalade.”

“Marmalade?”

“Doesn’t she look like a Marmalade?” John asked.

“Whatever, let’s call IAB,” Fin said.

“What are you gonna say?” John asked.

Fin grinned at him. “Wait and see.” He picked up the phone and dialed. “Yes. I want to report something,” he said in an altered tone, somewhat breathlessly. “Do you have an Ed Tucker working for you? ’Cause every time he goes out in the field, he visits strip clubs and he gets handsy with some of the girls. I see it and you need to do something about it! I saw him leaving the station today, and I don’t want him coming to the club today, do you hear?” He hung up.

John was biting his lip to keep from laughing. “You’re evil,” he said to Fin.

“Come on, let’s go follow them, see how that turns out.”

* * *

They kept their distance—wise, given how they were dressed, though both of them had put on the face masks. Tucker was going about his business, at first obliviously, although he started to look over his shoulder more and more.

Two IAB agents followed Tucker everywhere he went, and John wondered if Fin had known something about the case Tucker was working, because they were on a known prostitute stroll right now.

A woman came sauntering up to them and gave them a once-over. “I can work with this,” she purred. “Batman and Catwoman, very sexy. I do threesomes.”

They looked at each other, then her, and Fin said, “No, we’re not, y’know, _together_.”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Really?” as disbelievingly as possible.

John nudged Fin. Tucker was on the move again, and so were the IAB agents. “C’mon, Batman, we have to go.”

They watched interestedly as Tucker questioned one of the prostitutes, and noted that the two IAB detectives were taking photos from a distance. Tucker glanced over his shoulder again and saw John and Fin, then stormed over.

“Fuck,” Fin muttered under his breath. “For the first time, I’m _hoping_ the loop doesn’t get broken.”

“Right there with you,” John said.

“You two have been following me for the past two hours,” Tucker snarled. “Who the fuck are you?”

Fin sighed in relief, glad they had put their masks on. “Crimefighters,” he said in as altered a voice as he could manage. “We got a tip we’re following up on.”

Tucker rubbed his temples. “Batman fights crime with Robin, so you’re already failing on that front.”

“Yes, but Robin doesn’t have a cat. _Catwoman_ has cats,” John pointed out, altering his voice too. “I have a cat, so I have to be Catwoman.”

“Stop following me _right now_. You’re interfering with a police investigation.”

“It’s a public place,” John protested. “We have every right to be here, you can’t prevent us from being on a sidewalk.”

Tucker glared at them, then frowned at them. “You two look _awfully_ familiar. I’m sure I know you.”

John and Fin looked at each other, and John glanced at his watch. “Well, would you look at the time, that’s our cue to go, Batman.”

They turned and ran down the street. “He’s gonna piece it together,” Fin gasped. “If we break the loop today, that is.”

“Doubt it,” John answered, panting from the run. “Let’s go to the party now. I wasn’t kidding when I said was time.”

* * *

They entered the party by wriggling through a window, John handing Marmalade to Fin to hang onto while he slid in, then taking her back while Fin slid through. John put Marmalade on his shoulders, where she dug her claws into the leather, and he dusted his hands. “Let’s go find this party.”

“You got a plan?”

“Not really,” John admitted. “Never been to one of these swanky dos.”

“You know, we could stay a lot _longer_ at this if we came in tuxes instead of costumes.”

“I thought we were being outrageous today. Tuxes aren’t very outrageous. Catwoman, that’s outrageous. Now, what’s our plan?”

“We could run in and tell them we need their help solving a crime right away,” Fin suggested. “Start directing everyone and see how many people respond, then run before the cops come.”

“We could pretend to fight,” John said. “You run in first, ask if anyone’s seen Catwoman, then I’ll run in, stage a fight. Be careful of Marmalade, though.”

Fin nodded. “She seems like she can take of herself.”

“Still. I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

Fin swung open the doors to the party and announced loudly, “It’s _Batman_! This is important. Has anyone seen Catwoman? She’s been evading me!”

John heard gasps as the party guests took in the party crashing. There were annoyed mutters and murmurs, and as they started to die down, John entered behind Fin. “Batman!” he said loudly. “There you are! I’ve scoured the city for you, and you won’t escape this time.”

“It’s you who won’t escape, Catwoman,” Fin answered, turning to face John. “You and that feline menace of yours. I will take you down in front of all these witnesses, although I apologize to them, because it won’t be… pretty.”

“I hate to mess up your face,” John answered, “but you’ve forgotten cats have _claws_ ,” and he swiped at Fin. Fin caught John’s hand, which wasn’t much of a threat anyway, since he doubted John kept his fingernails long. John tugged on his hand, trying to pull it free, and while he was distracted, Fin swiped at his legs, bringing John crashing down to the floor.

“Dirty trick, but effective,” Fin said.

John reached up and brought Fin to his knees by applying pressure to the back of Fin’s knees. Fin stumbled and overbalanced, falling over John. “I can fight on the ground,” John protested.

Fin was on the ground next to John, looming over him, and their breaths caught. They stared at each other, and Fin closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to John’s lips.

John sighed against his lips, and Fin broke the kiss quickly, jumping to his feet and running out the door. He told himself it had been nothing, just one more outrageous thing, just a joke. He heard John running out after him—no surprise, he could hear sirens in the distance—and John calling, “Fin, wait.”

“I’m sorry, John,” he shouted. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever.”

John panted and fell back, no match for Fin’s speed.

* * *

Fin knocked on Ken’s door. He had spent most of today as Batman and there was one person in the world who had _wanted_ him to be Batman. He owed it to Ken to go see him.

Ken opened the door and took in the sight of his father in a Batman costume. “What the hell, Dad?” he asked.

“I’m Batman,” Fin said. “Like you always wanted.”

Ken frowned. “You’re about ten _years_ too late, Dad.”

“Come on, Ken, it’s never too late. Grab a towel or something, come be Robin.”

Ken shook his head. “You’re crazy, Dad. You can’t go back in time and redo my childhood just because you missed it. You had a chance to be Batman, and work was too important. Well, sorry, I’m not playing along now. You want to be Batman, you’re on your own.”

Fin sighed sadly. “I really fucked up, Ken. But I’m here now.”

“You’re standing in front of my door in a Batman costume. It’s not even Halloween yet. Yeah, maybe we need to talk, but it’s not a conversation I’m having with you when you’re acting this crazy.”

Ken shut the door hard in Fin’s face.

Fin took the cape off and walked sadly towards the subway to get home.

* * *

John was lying in bed with Marmalade curled up next to him. He was stroking her fur, determined to enjoy the company of his new cat for as long as he could before the loop restarted and she disappeared back to the shelter.

Marmalade stretched on the bed and kneaded a sleeping position, then curled up into a tight ball. John idly scratched her ears. “I love you, Marmalade,” he whispered to her. “Don’t go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note to readers: The next chapter coming up is a long one, so it will likely be a few days before final edits are finished and it's up. Thanks for reading & for your patience!


	8. Late-Night Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up to an unexpected surprise he can't wait to tell Fin about. Later, the two make a plan to try to stay up all night to see if that will break the loop. With plenty of time on their hands, conversation leads to some surprising revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience—I did mention this chapter would be a long one, so it took a while to finish up the edits. Hope it was worth the wait! Comments always appreciated.

**Day 8**

John woke up to his buzzing alarm, and for the first time in all these same-days he was actually thankful to hear it. Sure, he’d had a hell of a lot of fun with Fin the day before, letting loose and acting ridiculous. But dealing with the consequences of some of the things they’d done might not have been pleasant.

He reached to silence the alarm and nearly jumped out of his skin as a creature squeaked next to his ear.

_Wait a minute...is that actually...?_

“Marmalade?!”

John sat up, staring in disbelief at the tiny orange kitten standing on his pillow. She looked at him and mewled insistently again.

 _Shit_ , he thought, panic growing. _What if the day hasn’t repeated? Did I somehow set the alarm out of habit, muscle memory?_ But then he checked the date on his phone and saw that yes, in fact, it still was Friday October 23rd. He’d put the tv on to hear the news to confirm once he got out of bed, but it did appear he was still stuck on Friday...

...and now Marmalade was stuck with him.

How the hell had _that_ happened?

She mewled again, and John realized she was no doubt trying to tell him she was hungry. It also looked as though she had done some necessary kitten-business on his spare pillow during the night, which wasn’t the most pleasant discovery. If she were staying, he was going to have to get supplies for her: a litter box, kitten food, then get her checked out at the vet...

But this was too much to think about until he got some coffee in his system. And he needed to find food for Marmalade to eat as well.

John carried her to the kitchen and started to prepare his coffee. Last night, when he’d gotten home, he’d scavenged around his pantry and discovered a few cans of light tuna fish in water. He'd opened a can and mashed it up with some more water, and the kitten had lapped it up eagerly. So he gave her more of the same this morning, feeding her in the living room as he flicked on the morning news.

All the morning broadcasts told him it was definitely still Friday. But now he had brought someone into the loop with him. He had to tell Fin about this development immediately.

He knew it was barely after six but Fin had to be up already too, getting ready for the day. He dialed the familiar cell number while he kept an eye on the kitten, and perked up as soon as Fin answered with a somewhat weary, _“John? Why you callin’ so early. What’s wrong?”_

“Fin. Remember the kitten from last same-day? Marmalade?”

_“Yeah...”_

“She’s still here.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, until Fin finally said, _“Wait...what?!”_

“Yeah. It looks like she got pulled into this loop with us.” Nothing else had, as far as he could tell. He’d shed the Catwoman costume as soon as he got home (though granted, it had felt oddly pleasant to wear) and that was gone.

_“That’s...wow. Weird.”_

“Tell me about it. This has to mean something, but damned if I know what. Listen, I have to pick up some necessities for her this morning so I’m going to be late getting in to the 16th.”

_“Yeah, okay. Y’know, I was thinkin’ about blowing off work today anyway, calling in sick. Doesn’t seem as if what we do or don’t do at the 16th matters with this loop, right? And I don’t feel like having to do those files today, or gettin’ stuck on a dumb case...”_

“...or dealing with Gwen again?” John supplied.

_“Yeah, that too. How ’bout I tell Cragen we both got food poisoning? Remember how you got us Chinese from a new place on Thursday, before we ended up in the loop?”_

“No, I don’t remember. But I’ll take your word for it.” With everything else that had been going on, he’d completely forgotten about that. “Hey, that couldn’t have been anything to do with this, you think? Bad Chinese food?”

_“Melinda said no when she ran all her medical tests on me. Still, it’s an excuse to get us out of work. Not that we even need it.”_

“Right.” John wondered if Fin was looking to avoid him today after the way things had ended last night. That kiss. But 6 a.m. wasn't the time to press forward on that matter. “So, you want to meet up later? Or if you need a day on your own, I understand,” he said, trying to suggest either was fine with him. “We haven’t exactly had the weekend to get away from each other, for which we’re overdue.”

_“I do have a couple things to take care of this morning on my own. Sounds like you got your hands full with kitten business, anyway. But how ’bout I come by ’round dinner time? Wouldn’t mind seein’ the little furball. And maybe there’s something about your apartment that’s connected to the loop we should think about. She did end up trapped after spending the night there.”_

“Maybe. Sounds crazy but, hey, at this point anything’s worth considering.”

_“Yeah. So...see you tonight, six or seven?”_

“See you then.” John ended the call and gathered Marmalade in his hands, snuggling her close. He laughed as she tried to swat and bite his fingers, then went for his nose. Now that she’d had her breakfast, she was a bundle of energy, charged up and on the attack.

He delighted in her playfulness. He’d wanted a pet for ages, but had always worried that with his work schedule he couldn’t take care of one properly. But now he wondered if that had been a silly excuse; cats were known for their independence, after all.

“Okay, my sweet lady. Gonna see what I can do for you today,” he told her. Once it got a little later in the morning he’d try to find a vet office close to home, make an appointment to bring her in. Do a bit of shopping, then take some time for himself in the afternoon to relax and unwind. It sounded as though Fin had similar plans in mind.

* * *

Fin hung up the phone, rubbed his face and sighed. He actually hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, since he’d decided not to go in to work the moment he’d woken up.

He was glad that John sounded happy this morning, excited about his new feline friend. _Wish I’d brought Alfred home with me_ , he thought with regret _._ It would be nice to wake up to someone who could love him and give him affection with the ready eagerness of a puppy.

Well. If not _this_ same-day then next time, he’d ask John where he’d found that particular canine. Today, though, he had another thing he wanted to do.

Fin got in the shower after taking his morning piss. He thought back on all the craziness of the day before as the hot water woke him up. Most of it had been so damn much fun—joking around with people, seeing how they would react. Telling off that crazy ex-wife of John’s, that had been _especially_ fun. He hated seeing the way she twisted him up inside any time she was around.

It was only too bad the day hadn’t ended on as much of a high note as he’d wanted it to, with Ken. He should have anticipated his son’s reaction to his mad behavior. After all, he shouldn’t expect that he could erase a lifetime of misunderstanding and emotional distance with one night in a fucking superhero costume, right?

Thinking back more on the day, he skittered quickly over the events right _before_ he’d left the gala to go see his son. John in that tight-fitting Catwoman costume, wrestling with him in front of all those fancy society people. And then that kiss—

— _nope_. He wasn’t going to think about _that_.

Fin got out of the shower, shaved and dressed as usual. He hung around his apartment until he knew it was late enough the captain would be in. He played the sick and nauseous routine with enough conviction that Cragen was more than happy for him and John to stay home for the day.

 _“So far there’s nothing but paperwork for you two today, anyway,”_ the captain told him, to no surprise. _“Get some rest.”_

Satisfied, Fin lounged around his place a while longer, enjoying the quiet time alone. He figured the person he wanted to talk to wouldn’t be out and on the streets until later in the day herself. The kind of people she usually helped weren’t exactly early risers.

* * *

Marmalade’s vet appointment went fine. She was a healthy, normal eight-week old kitten who had already had her first round of shots at the shelter, so she wouldn’t be due for any boosters for almost a month. John took his car to the appointment so he could then go shopping at one of the pet shops in his neighborhood. He loaded up on everything possible he could think of that a cat could need. Everything might disappear come tomorrow, but perhaps not, if Marmalade had stayed herself. Maybe she was somehow the key to all this...but damned if John could sort out exactly how or why.

Back at home Marmalade exhausted herself playing with her new cat toys, drank some of the second-stage formula the vet had recommended to get her better adjusted to solid food, and then settled into a deep nap on her luxurious new cat bed. It was only about two in the afternoon, so John then decided to take a walk to get some fresh air.

Fort Tryon Park was a quick stroll from his apartment, and the views across the Hudson should be beautiful this time of the year, the trees all bright in their Autumn glory. So many years he said he had to make a point to see them, and so often time slipped away before he could.

He entered the park and started to follow one of the meandering paths, thinking back on the past few same-days. The last one, in particular. Fin in a Batman costume of all things...and he filled out that costume pretty damn well, John had to say. He wished he’d been able to get a picture of the two of them in their crazy outfits, one that wouldn’t have been gone today, in any event.

Of course it had been a sight he wouldn’t be likely to forget for a very long time. Neither was he very likely to forget that kiss.

John drew in a deep breath of the cool October air. The memory of that kiss was both more confusing and more stimulating than he wanted to focus on. At the time, at first, he’d been too surprised to react. By the time his brain had caught up with his body, Fin had run off as fast as a literal bat out of hell.

John hoped the kiss wouldn’t become an issue between them, even as he wouldn’t mind another one like that from Fin. It had been ages—shit, _decades_ —since he’d fooled around with a guy. Men weren’t often his thing. But he wouldn’t deny that Fin was a particularly attractive man, and thinking about doing things beyond kissing him, well...

...if he thought about them too much, he might have to make it a quick dash home to take care of some personal business instead of enjoying this walk in the park.

So John pushed it all aside and concentrated on appreciating the outdoors, this time off playing “hooky” even if he were stuck in a single repeating day.

* * *

Fin found the van parked in one of her usual spots, not far from a corner of Riverside Park known as a hangout for prostitutes and drug addicts.

She spotted him first, as he walked toward the van. She favored him with a cautious smile. “Dectective Tutuola, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today? Is someone new targeting my girls, or are you looking to harass one of them?”

“Nothing like that today, don’t worry.” He paused, hands in his coat pockets, unsure how to begin this conversation. Sister Peg was tough, but he knew she was fair. Honest to the point of being brutal, even. And when it came to matters of faith, she was pretty much the only person he could think of wanting to talk to. “It’s…a personal matter I was hoping you could help me with.”

“Well, I’d be happy to listen, Detective. Although whether I have any answers for you may depend on the questions you’re planning to ask.”

“I understand. I don’t know if I’m expecting to find any real answers right now.” _Damn, this is hard,_ he thought with a sigh as he tried to find his words. “Look, Sister. I’m not exactly a church-going man. My momma raised us to be good Methodists, but I never felt it, you know? Everyone else could stand up in their Sunday best and ‘praise the Lord’. Act like it didn’t matter how bad things were on the street, in your own home, because Jesus made it all better somehow. Made the hurting just to survive have meaning. Not me. I could never buy that.”

“But something’s happened to make you question your lack of faith?” she guessed.

“Somethin’s happened all right, and I can’t explain it. Not in any logical, reasonable, _rational_ manner. So that leaves me thinking it’s either all in my head and I’m going crazy or...wondering if it is some kind of divine intervention?”

Sister Peg smiled at him. “So basically you’re stuck between God and a crazy place. You don’t want to believe, but you’re running out of other options.”

“Kind of, I guess. And I’m trying to figure out, one way or another, how would I even know?”

“You never do. That’s what it means to have faith. It means believing in that which you can’t see, you can’t hold in your hands, you can’t explain it with logic and science. And when you give yourself over to believing in that which you can’t explain, _that’s_ when you can find comfort in the unknown.”

“Faith.” Fin repeated the word, toying with it even as it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Faith can take whatever form you wish it to, Detective. Despite what church doctrine might say. I believe in God and I believe in Jesus Christ as our savior, but if you can find faith along another path, on whatever path you’re being led down...embrace it. Don’t reject it. Open yourself up to the possibility that there’s another realm beyond what you think you know as real. Then, you might find the answers you’re seeking.” She paused, and then apologized, “Sorry if I don't have any easy answers for you today.”

“It’s okay. I guess in these things, there never are, right? But you are giving me some things to mull over.”

“Good.”

“Anything I can do to return the favor?”

“Well, if you offering, I _am_ short-handed today,” she said. “Want to lend me a hand dispensing some free condoms in exchange for my free advice?”

“Sure thing, long as you don’t mind a cop taggin’ along with you for a while.”

“Just don’t pull your badge, or your gun, and I think you’ll do fine.”

* * *

John heard the knocking on his door a few minutes after seven that night. He got up from the sofa where he’d been sitting with Marmalade, reading one of his new books on cat care and feline behavior. Fin had called about an hour earlier asking if it were still cool for him to come over, and of course he’d said yes. In fact he’d been starting to worry even more about Fin trying to avoid him so it was a relief to see him here at last.

“Hey,” John answered him at the door. “Come on in.”

“Thanks. I brought Thai food, if that’s okay.”

“Sure! I think Thai’s the one cuisine I _haven’t_ eaten in this week-plus of same-days yet.”

“So where’s Munchkin?”

“Marmalade!” John corrected.

“Marmalade...fine. Aw, there’s my Munchkin!” Fin spotted her on the sofa and went to scoop her up, give her a quick kiss on the top of her kitty head. Then he looked around and seemed to take in the vast array of cat toys, books, the kitty bed and even the cat tree John had bought for her, all cluttering up the already messy living room. “Damn, Munch. Shoulda figured you’d turn into a crazy cat lady eventually.”

“Only the best for my miracle time-loop baby-girl.”

“What if it’s all gone tomorrow?”

“Then at least I’ll know what she liked and what she didn’t, so I can buy the right things for her next time. C’mon, get comfortable, I’ll get plates and silverware for dinner. No need to use plastic.”

“Yeah. Especially when the dishes will do themselves overnight.”

John bustled around in the kitchen while Fin sat down with Marmalade on the sofa. He’d taken off his leather jacket, draping it over the sofa arm, and was otherwise dressed in a casual maroon sweater and black pants. John had changed out of his jeans and sweater from earlier to relax for the evening in one of his favorite pajama sets. Given that Fin had seen him in a Catwoman get-up the day before, he’d figured pj’s had to be a modest alternative.

“Do you want anything to drink?” John asked.

“Guess water’s good. Though if you got a beer...”

“Thai food necessitates beer.” He’d picked up a six pack while he was out as well. “I’ll bring two.”

John set up the coffee table so they could enjoy dinner on the sofa. While he unpacked the carry-out bag, Fin said, “Sorry I ran off on you last night. I really did have somewhere I needed to be. Or thought I did. Ended up being a disaster.”

“What happened?” John wanted to know, sitting down and going for one of the spring rolls. He saw Fin had gotten a double order of those, plus his favorite shrimp pad Thai and John’s favorite cashew chicken.

“I had it in my head to go see Ken. You know, play Batman with him, since he always wanted to as a kid. Only I keep forgetting he ain’t a kid any longer. He looked at me like a crazy old man and told me to get lost.”

“Sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault. I’m the one who messed things up so bad with my son that he doesn’t want to see me these days.”

Fin didn’t seem to want to talk about that any further so John changed the topic. “So hear me out, I had an idea this afternoon. Something we could try tonight to try to break the loop.”

“I’m listening.”

“What’s the latest you’ve stayed awake any of these same-days?” John asked.

“Not sure,” Fin answered as he made himself a plate of the pad Thai. “Maybe that first night, watching the game and then the post-game show. So ’bout one or so?”

“I’ve been up later but can’t recall exactly until when. Definitely past two a.m., though. And when I’ve fallen asleep I’ve been out cold until my alarm went off, which is strange for me. I usually wake up a lot during the night, or get completely restless every so often and can’t sleep at all.”

“So what’s your idea.”

“What if we try to stay up all night?” John said. “With each other here for company, it should be easier. I want to see if, for one, we can determine what time this fucking day resets. And two, if we can break it by staying up past that point.”

“Worth a try, I guess. Though, damn...I would’ve brought over one of my game systems if I’d known we were gonna go for an all-nighter. I do that sometimes without even realizing it when I get into a good game.”

“And that would surely put me straight to sleep,” John said, imagining his eyes glazing over while Fin got lost in one of his shoot-’em-up games.

“I did pick up a movie from a rental place,” Fin offered. “Figured we could watch it together, even though I just watched it the other night. Groundhog Day.”

John made a face. “I hate that fucking movie.”

“Me too. But isn’t it almost what’s happening to us?”

“That’s fiction. This is fact.”

“Right. But I’ve been thinkin’...what if the guy who wrote that movie did it ’cause he had this happen to him? What if it’s supposed to be a guide for anyone else who gets stuck in a time loop. If so, there could be clues hidden in the script on how to get out of it.”

“That’s a theory worthy of my conspiratorial brain, Fin.”

“Shit. I guess I _have_ known you too long, then.”

John grinned at that, then took a drink of his beer. He was stopping at one tonight; alcohol would only put him to sleep, not help keep him awake. “All right, we’ll watch the movie after we eat. It _has_ been ages since I suffered through it.”

* * *

Fin popped in the DVD after they’d cleared away the dinner dishes and tossed the take-out containers. It felt kind of weird being here in Munch’s apartment like this. They weren’t normally the hang-out-away-from-the-job types, and to be honest John’s place kind of freaked him out. While Fin appreciated keeping a clean, neat and minimalistic dwelling, John’s was overflowing with stuff—much like his brain was always overflowing with ideas, worries and words. The full bookcases, the papers everywhere...nearly every inch of wall space was covered either in photos, art or documents. It was enough to make a man like Fin dizzy. So he tried his best not to think too much about it and concentrate on the film instead, while Marmalade jumped from one man’s lap to the next, looking to play and get belly rubs.

They didn’t talk much during the film, although John had a paper-pad out and was jotting down notes here and there. “Why you bothering? Those notes will be gone come morning,” Fin had said when they started the movie.

“Writing things down helps me think. A pattern could reveal itself.”

Fin had glanced around again, wondering how Munch could ever think with all the noise and confusion around him.

When the movie was over, John turned off the DVD player and asked, “So what do you think?”

“I think I still hate this stupid movie. In fact I hate it more than ever now that I’m living through a version of it.”

“That’s a given. But did watching it again give you any fresh thoughts on our current predicament?”

Fin shrugged. “Dunno. I mean, already it’s not like ours because Bill Murray’s day never changes. Everything happening around him is exactly the same until or unless _he_ does something different. Ours is _almost_ the same, but minor things change, here and there.”

“If I buy your theory that the movie was written by someone who’s experienced this, that could be artistic license. Simplifying matters for the mass audience, amplifying the idea of the time loop. But what about the message behind it all?”

“Well they ain’t exactly subtle about that. This guy’s a total arrogant prick at the beginning of the film. It’s only when he starts to do things to help other people, and make himself a better person, that he’s finally able to break the loop.”

“When he gets Andie McDowell to fall in love with him and spend the night,” John added.

A momentary awkward silence passed between them. Then Fin said, “So, what, we both gotta find some chick to convince to fall in love with us to get out of this loop? That’s some Hollywood bullshit all right.”

John snorted. “And everyone says _I’m_ the cynical one.”

Fin shook his head. “What are we supposed to do...spend our days finding random people in the city to save, cats to rescue out of shelters? Don’t mention Munchkin,” Fin warned. “Start taking piano lessons every day? I got people in my life I try to make amends to, like my son, and that don’t doesn’t seem to do nothin’ to get us out of this.”

“So in other words, you’re certain we suffered through this shit-show of a movie for nothing.”

“What do _you_ think? You get anything useful out of it, with all your note-taking?”

John tapped his pen against his notepad, looking pensive. “I don’t know. Some things to consider, but I’m thinking I need some coffee if I’m going to make it through the night.”

* * *

Fin yawned and rolled his shoulders, shifted position on John’s sofa. It wasn’t that late yet, but his eyes seemed to be growing heavier by the minute. “Gettin’ hard to stay awake. Don’t know why I’m so tired. How about we trade off on taking naps?” he suggested hopefully.

“No. That could still fuck things up. We have to keep an eye on each other to make sure we don’t both doze off.” They had the tv up loud to try to provide background noise distraction. But the late night shows weren’t especially funny and the news was all boring as hell after days of the same stories. ‘We need to keep talking. That’s the best way to keep focused, stay awake.” John was on his second pot of coffee for the night and looking pretty wired.

“Okay, so what do you want to talk about?” Fin asked. They’d gone over his rambling notes on the movie, which had gotten them no further than Fin’s own observations. “And nothing about JFK, conspiracies, aliens, any of that shit. That’s all off the table unless you _want_ me to fall asleep.”

“But anything else is fair game?” John asked. And the note in his voice immediately made Fin wary.

“Within reason,” he answered with caution.

“When was the last time you got laid.”

“Excuse me?!” Fin glared at John, who looked at him with an innocent expression.

“It’s a simple question.”

“Yeah and it’s none of your damned business.”

John patted him on the knee with sympathy. “That long, then.”

“Fuck you, John.” John waggled his eyebrows at Fin at that response. “And that _ain’t_ what I mean. But all right, you want to know? It’s been a while. Couple years, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well I don’t keep a fuckin’ calendar!” This whole line of conversation was leaving him flustered. And maybe it had been longer than a “couple” years, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit to that. “Look, you understand how it is. It’s tough when you’re working this job to meet someone. Or even feel like trying to. Melinda set me up with a friend of hers, while back, we went on a couple dates. But I wasn’t really feelin’ it.”

And unlike most guys, it seemed, Fin had never had much interest in casual hookups only about sex. Going without for long periods of time was more tolerable than dealing with the drama that always seemed to follow a one-night stand or a bad attempt at actual dating. “So what about you?” Fin asked, shifting the conversation away from himself. He tried to imagine John bringing a woman back to this apartment and could only picture her immediately turning tail, running away screaming.

John grimaced. “Not much better than you, I’m afraid. A few dates here and there...instead of Melinda I had Casey trying to hook me up with someone from the DA’s office she thought I’d hit it off with, but...”

“But?”

“The last woman I had any real romantic feelings for was a victim whose case I was on. So _that_ was awkward, and she was out of my league anyway. Even though, for some reason, she seemed to like me, too. This was not long before you came over to SVU, by the way, in case you’re trying to think of who it is.”

“Oh.” Fin had been and drawing a blank. “So what happened?”

“Told myself I wouldn’t do anything about it until, if, or when we caught her attackers. But she ended up dead before that happened. Blown up by a homemade bomb.”

“Jesus.”

“She had a stalker we didn’t know about because we were concentrating so much on her rape. After that happened...I guess never saw the point in getting attached again.”

“I can understand that. Although...”

“What?”

Fin shrugged. “I kinda thought you had a thing for that lady suicide doctor a while back, you know? What was her name?”

“Amy?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Amy...Amy was different. _Is_ different.” Fin gave him a questioning look. “We still stay in touch. I enjoy talking to her. But it’s nothing more than that.”

“Hmm.” Fin took a sip of the coffee John had prepared for him (two sugars and a heavy shot of cream, exactly how he made it himself). “So we’ve talked about who we’ve banged, or not banged. Give me another topic, here, since that conversation was pathetic and brief.”

John seemed to pondered the possibilities. Then he turned the television volume down and shifted position on the couch, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around one. “Tell me your deepest and darkest secret,” he said.

“Why am I gonna go and do that?”

“Humor me. Because I’m curious. And it’s not as if anyone outside of this room ever has to hear it. Maybe you need to confess your sins to me, come clean to ease your troubled mind, in order to break the cycle.”

Fin debated John’s words. After his conversation with Sister Peg earlier today, he wondered if he should consider the idea of confessing. Clear the air, lighten his soul—if he had one. And there _was_ something he’d never told John, something pretty big about his earlier years. For a long time he’d been ashamed of it, and now, well...it was so far a part of his past that most of the time it didn’t even feel like his life.

And if he couldn’t tell John, who in a weird way _was_ his best friend, whom could he ever talk to about it?

“Okay. Yeah.” John sat quiet and patient, waiting for him to continue. Fin contemplated his coffee, trying to decide where to begin. “When I was a kid, growing up in the ’hood, I got into my fair share of trouble. I wasn’t always so clean cut the way you probably think. It was tough back then. You wouldn’t be able to understand what it was like. When the only people you see making a success of themselves, getting _out_ of the ’hood or at least seeming to run things there, are the pushers and the pimps.

“And everywhere you go, someone is offering you shit. ‘Go on, try this, take some of that. It’s cool.’ Don’t do it and people start to wonder what your problem is. So I got into some stuff and I’m not proud of that.”

“Drugs?”

“Weed, mostly. Some pills. I know _you_ don’t think that’s a big deal. Thing is, once they got you hooked, back where I’m from, that’s when they start seein’ how they can use you. Get you to trade your services for product. ‘Go be a lookout for us, we’ll take care of you.’ That kind of thing. You start to think you’re making a name for yourself, but all you are is a pawn in the game. Disposable. The first ones to go down if there’s trouble.”

“Let me take a guess—you got busted?”

“I got _lucky_ ,” Fin corrected him, “and scared straight before that happened. One of my best friends, kid I’d known since I was scramblin’ round in diapers? He got shot and killed in a deal gone bad. And he was the one who’d first hooked me up, started getting me in on his action. I knew, then, that didn’t want to end up in a body bag like him. I couldn’t do that to my momma, not after seein’ what it did to my friend’s family. That’s when I got myself clean before it got too late. Pulled my grades up, finished high school and immediately went in the army ’cause it was the only way I could see to get out of that life for good.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Fin. If anything it makes you a role model to other young people who have had to deal with the same pressures.”

“Yeah, sure. But try explainin’ that to IAB if it ever came up on my record: Narcotics cop use used to smoke dope, understands how the system works ’cause he had first-hand knowledge of it growing up. Anyway...you wanted a big secret, there you go.”

“And it’s safe here. Thank you for telling me.”

Fin nodded and that was all that needed to be said. He _knew_ he could trust John; if not, he never would have told him, time loop or not. And while Fin wasn’t big on this whole deep, dark secret confession thing, he figured John now owed him, too. “Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah. Spill it, Munch. Your biggest secret. I lay it out for you, you gotta return the trust.” And he needed a good story to stay awake, anyway.

“You’re right, fair is fair,” John agreed. “Though I need to fortify my coffee first. You want...?”

“Sure, what the hell.” John got up, carrying both of their coffee cups into the kitchen. He came back with them refilled, and Fin got a whiff of something sweet and potent added to the warm brew. John resumed his position on the sofa, but didn’t speak right away. Fin wondered, taking in his partner’s somber expression, if he should tell him it was actually okay, he didn’t have to talk. He felt torn between intense curiosity and wondering if this was a secret he really didn’t need to find out. He didn’t want to force his partner to drag up memories so painful that they were better left undisturbed.

But then John started to speak. “There _is_ something I’ve never told anyone. I figured I’d go to my grave with this, unless...somehow, someone finally put the pieces together and decided to drag it back into the light. You are the only person I’ve ever _considered_ telling, even before tonight, because I think you might understand. At least I hope you do. I don’t want to lose our friendship over events that happened years before we even met.”

Fin nodded, and then acted in a manner that surprised even himself. He reached over and took John’s free hand in his own and squeezed it gently. He didn’t say anything, didn’t seem to need to. The touch was enough, and John gave him a tight-lipped smile and then continued talking.

“This was...this happened...almost fifteen years ago, in Baltimore. Things were going well for once. We’d just had the grand opening of the Waterfront—that bar I’d bought with a few of the other detectives from the Homicide unit, you know.”

“I know all about _that,_ yeah.” If Fin never heard another word about that damn bar he would be a thankful man.

“Anyway. That was a great night. Stan the Man, my normally ever-so-composed-and-serious partner? Even _he_ got shitfaced drunk like I’d never seen him until then. Happy. We were all so fucking happy.

“Next morning it’s back to business as usual—and time to serve a warrant on a guy we’ve been after for while, Glen Holton. Holton was a real sicko—pedophile, murderer, prime suspect in an ongoing child abduction case. He’d been convicted twice in the past so we couldn’t wait to finally get this guy off the street. Hopefully for good this time. Stan and I meet up with two of the other detectives working the case, Kay and Beau. Kay’s the primary. They’ve been staking out Glen’s building, waiting for him to be at home.

“All of it, everything was routine. Some of us were a tad hungover, sure, but still sharp. _We_ weren’t the ones who made a mistake that morning.”

John paused to take a sip of his spiked coffee. Fin could feel his hand, growing sweaty and cold in his own, and only held on tighter. “Kay insists on going in first. She wants to bag this son of a bitch. You think Olivia’s tough? Kay was fucking _steel_. And when she wanted someone as much as she wanted Holton, you didn’t get in her way.

“Holton’s living in this fleabag transient place. Hotel-turned-apartment building, you can picture the scene. Apartment 2-0-1, that’s what the warrant I had in my hands said. Unis had everything at the building locked up and covered...or so _they_ said.

“We go in, vests on, ready for anything, we’re at the door. But before Kay can knock on 201 we hear activity from above, up the stairwell...the place explodes. I don’t even realize at first it’s gunfire. I don’t...to this day I remember the noise, but everything else is blank. I don’t figure out what’s happened until the unis are crawling over us, screaming ‘ten-thirteen’. I’m standing there frozen and Kay, Beau, Stan...they’re all...everyone’s down. Blood is everywhere and somehow I’m standing like I’m in a dream, some kind of nightmare, frozen and I can’t do anything to help.”

“You were in shock.”

“I guess I was. I’m standing there thinking, are they all dead? My friends, my partner? Am _I_ dead? Maybe that’s the only reason I’m still standing. I must be dead, right? You always see that in the movies—a person’s dead and floating away from their body. But _my_ body’s not on the ground, I’m not laying there covered in blood like they are. I’m... _spotless_. Except my shoes, I notice later at the hospital. My friends’ blood is all over my shoes.”

The image stirred something in the back of Fin’s mind...a memory of his days in the army he typically chose to forget. It flittired away as John continued speaking. “Anyway...the entire Baltimore police force is scrambling to find this chickenshit scumbag we were there to arrest, thinking he had to be the one to do it and he’s long gone by now. Everyone is out there after him, except me. I don’t want to leave the hospital until I hear about everyone, especially Stan. Stan was my buddy. He got shot in the head, and it’s bad. Kay took two bullets to the _heart_ , teflon straight through the vest.”

“Fuckin’ cop killers.”

John nodded. “Exactly. Kay’s _real_ bad, her chances aren’t looking good. Beau’s ‘lucky’, if you want to call it that—neck and thigh. He at least should make it. They finally send me home before I go mental from the waiting around, but how the hell am I supposed to sleep? I’m a dead man walking. I’m at the hospital because that’s where I’m supposed to be right now, in surgery and clinging on for life. But my coworkers, they’re all looking at me as if I’m avoiding hunting down the shooter. Maybe I’m scared, right? Munch, the one who froze on the scene instead of going after the guy who took down three of my fellow detectives. I’m the big joke, now. I always am.

“Only it turns out joke was on us all along. Holton the pedophile wasn’t the shooter. We weren’t even at his apartment, number two-oh-one. That was a fucking _clerical error_. Can you believe it? His apartment was two- _ten_. Two-oh-one, by our misfortune, was the home of a loser piece of cop-hating trash by the name of Gordon Pratt. Pratt panicked when he saw unis on the street because there was an outstanding warrant against him, too. Clearly, ‘the man’ was out for him. So he decided he had to take the man down.

“Eventually we caught Pratt, but we couldn’t find the weapon. Couldn’t charge him in the shootings. My esteemed colleague, one Frank Pembleton, had him in the box for hours. Frank loved to showboat. Loved to turn every interrogation into a Tony-worthy performance. Pratt was a racist piece of shit who wasn’t as smart as he thought he was...but he was smart enough to lawyer up once Frank pushed too many of his buttons. So we’re left standing there with our thumbs up our asses, three of our own lying in the hospital, two maybe not making it, while the piece of trash we all knew did it got to walk right out the door.

John focused on his partner and asked him, “Fin, can you imagine...can you just _imagine_ if it were Liv, Elliot and me all shot on a warrant gone bad, and you’re the last one standing? And you _knew_ who did it, you _knew_ with one hundred percent certainty who the bastard was who did it, and you had to let him walk out the door?”

“I don’t think he’d be walking that much longer,” Fin said coolly, with a growing understanding of where John was headed with his lengthy story.

“He wasn’t. The call came in two hours later. They found Pratt dead in the lobby of his apartment building. Close range bullet to the head.”

“Cop took him out?”

“The case was...never closed. No one wanted to investigate too closely. Not even the detective assigned to it, one of my partners at the Waterfront, Tim. Not even when my flimsy alibi fell apart. Not even when I offered my gun to him to check if it had been fired recently...because I knew Tim wouldn’t take it. At least, I bet that he wouldn’t...or maybe I didn’t even care at that point if he did. I’m fucking pouring drinks at the bar and my friends are all in the hospital fighting for their lives. Maybe I’d lived to avenge them, I tried to tell myself. Prison would be a fair trade for a hospital bed.”

“Say it, John,” Fin urged.

But John was still hedging, circling around the final truth. “I’d gone back to the hospital to check on Stan...he’d been in surgery again to relieve pressure on the brain, but when he came out of it he couldn’t remember anything. It was all gone, everything that made up who he’d been, who he _was_ , and the doctors couldn’t tell yet if it was permanent or not.

“That was it. That was when I knew what I had to do. I drove straight to that apartment building, sat in the car...we were all supposed to be watching him, that was orders, but no one else was there. I would have seen the surveillance. It was quiet. This was my chance. I saw him come down to the lobby to use the pay phone. All I could worry about was what he’d done to my friends. To Stan. So I got out of the car, crossed the street...he didn’t see it coming until I was there at the door. And the last thing he saw was my gun in his face, right before I killed him.”

John’s confession hung heavy in the air, answered by silence. It wasn’t that Fin was too stunned to speak or somehow shocked, disappointed. It was more that such a confession deserved the respect of unspoken acknowledgement—no platitudes, no condescending words to dismiss it away. He couldn’t read John’s stony expression, but the tightness by which he still held Fin’s hand said everything he needed to say.

Eventually, he squeezed John’s hand in return, hoping the gesture would draw him out of his dark thoughts and recollections. When he had John’s eyes meeting his own, Fin said in a soft voice, “I can’t walk in your shoes, John. But I gotta think I would have done the same thing. Anyone ever tried to take you out and that motherfucker _better_ have a death wish.”

“Same here,” John answered, with a tiny hint of a grim smile brokering small relief. Their eyes met for a moment too long, but before it became awkward John looked away and took a heavy drink of his coffee. “Anyway. Well. I guess story hour is over and we’ve still got a while to go until morning.”

Marmalade had abandoned them both for the warmth of her cat bed. The only thing on the television now was shitty infomercials and re-runs of ancient sitcoms. “What should we do now?” John asked.

“Go for a walk?” Fin suggested. He thought the cold air outside might help wake him up, clear his head after their grim conversations.

John snorted. “Not in this neighborhood this of night. Not unless you’re looking to put your badge to work. What about a game? I may not have an Xbox but I know I’ve got some board games around here.”

“Sure,” Fin said with a yawn. “So long as it doesn’t require too much brainpower.” Fuck, he really wanted to sleep, wanted some time to process John’s confession. But he _was_ also curious to see what would happen if they managed to stay up all night. Why was that suddenly so hard to do when they’d pulled plenty of all-nighters on the job? Of course they were usually jacked up on adrenaline those nights, and spiked coffee wasn’t the same.

He was about to suggest they head down to the precinct for a change of venue, but then John got up and said, “Right. Let me see what I can find.”

* * *

The one game John was able to locate on short notice amidst the chaos of his apartment was Scrabble. That only proved tolerable for a brief time. Their eyes were glazing over from exhaustion and the letters on the tiles all began to blur into formless scribbles.

“If you don’t mind I’m going to take a shower,” John said, standing up as his spine protested. Sitting on the floor around the coffee table had helped him stay awake, but now he was paying for it. “A cold shower might wake me back up.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Fin said with another yawn, getting up long enough to slide back onto John’s sofa. “I’ll go after you.”

“Don’t fall asleep while I’m in the bathroom.”

“I won’t. Gonna read one of your crazy books.” Fin grabbed one off the stack on the end table.

“There’s more coffee if you want it,” John said, heading to the bathroom. He needed to take a serious leak after all the coffee he’d been drinking all night, anyway.

He wanted that shower, not only to try to keep awake but to hopefully to clear his head, wash away the guilt and bad memories clinging to his thoughts. He couldn’t quite describe how he was feeling, and being all jittery on caffeine wasn’t helping.

They always said confessing your sins was supposed to make you feel better, lift your spirits...but thinking about those days from Baltimore again had instead sent John’s mood into a dark spiral. He could feel it closing in all around, almost suffocating him. He’d tried his best for all these years to put it behind him, to move on, not dwell upon it. What was done, was done. And he didn’t feel regret nor remorse for his actions.

He wished he didn’t feel anything, period.

It was why he’d finally left Baltimore for good and sworn he’d never set foot in the city again. Sure he lied when asked and blamed it on Billy Lou, on needing to get away after his disaster of a fourth marriage, one that had been a failure from the very start. But it had been his conversation with Tim on his wedding night which had made him desperate to run. He had realized the only way to ever put Pratt behind him would be to start over somewhere new, somewhere fresh...somewhere hopefully those ghosts would never come around to haunt him.

But now they were back.

_“Good night, John-boy.”_

Fuck, he didn’t need this in his brain when he had enough to deal with sorting out his current mess with Fin, this day repeating itself over and over again and they were no closer to figuring out why. All he knew in that moment was he couldn’t even stand being alone with his thoughts in the shower; he needed Fin’s company. He needed...something that seemed forever out of reach, and the closest he ever came to it was when they were working together to solve some kind of mystery.

And now they couldn't solve the mystery in which they found themselves personally entangled.

John dried off, brushed his hair, and changed into some fresh pjs. Returning to the living room, he wasn’t too surprised by what he found: Fin with his feet propped up on the coffee table, out cold and snoring with John’s book flopped to his side. Marmalade had gotten off her cat bed and made herself a nest in Fin’s lap.

John smiled to himself, although it was a smile laced with sadness. He wished he could take a picture of the scene in front of him that would actually last until morning. He went over to the sofa and attempted to nudge Fin back awake. “Hey, sleepy head...” But there was no response. Fin was sleeping so sound he was like bear in deep hibernation.

John sighed and sat down beside him. He didn’t think he was going to be able to stay awake much longer himself, not without Fin to talk to. Maybe...maybe it would be enough, he wondered, that they were here together? Confessing their sins, opening up about their pasts? He wanted to believe that could be it. That was all it would take.

He wanted to fall asleep and wake up in the morning with Fin still here beside him. Fin and Marmalade and then everything else would be all right.

He wanted—

But the thought escaped him as he dropped his head to Fin’s shoulder, sleep pulling him under as his resistance faded to the blackness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those reading who have never seen _Homicide: Life on the Street_ , the details of the Pratt story are taking from the season 3 story arc in "The City That Bleeds", "Dead End", "End Game" and "Law & Disorder". Although Pratt's murder is left unsolved, Belzer has stated that he always played it as & believed that Munch killed Pratt—so that's the headcanon I choose to accept. (And I also urge any SVU Munch-loving fans, _do_ seek out HLOTS for lots of wonderful background on his character!) 
> 
> If you might appreciate some reference clips, here are a few on YouTube:  
> * [The Homicide detectives on the hunt for Holton after the shooting.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWUd-S0hNBc)  
> * [Tim asking the uninjured detectives where they were when Pratt was killed.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wf7ZtEfwGeg)  
> * [Tim confronts John about his alibi for the shooting not holding up.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mokaKuJ7AaM)  
> * [From the season 7 finale, when Tim tells John he always suspected him of killing Pratt.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CImtMgRDgAw)


	9. Bringing Home Batman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up, alone save for Marmalade, and finds himself sinking into even deeper depths of depression than before. He reaches out to a friend for advice. Meanwhile, Fin hopes to find that puppy from the shelter, and may not realize until too late how much his partner needs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: This chapter contains descriptions & discussion of suicidal thoughts and depression. If you're sensitive to such subject matter, you may wish to skip ahead.

 

**Day 9**

John woke up blearily. He was in his bed, his alarm blaring, Marmalade curled up next to him. He sighed sadly. He had hoped—hoped deeply, with every fiber of his being—that their confessions last night would’ve broken this fucking awful loop. If not that, then at least, at _least_ , that Fin would still be here, on his couch.

John got up quickly. Maybe Fin was. Maybe the loop had changed that much, like it had when Marmalade had gotten pulled in. He headed to the living room hopefully.

It was empty and so was the kitchen, no trace of last night. Groundhog Day was gone, the Thai food containers were gone, the beer bottles were gone, the cups of coffee were gone. Fin was gone, probably spirited back to his own bed somehow. John sighed and sat down heavily on the couch. He couldn’t face going in to work today, not after last night’s confession session. He was bone-tired, too, from staying up so late, but he didn’t think he could sleep more.

Memories of Baltimore, of his friends, of the shooting, of what he had done, flooded him, and John groaned.

He regretted now suggesting that they share their darkest secrets—it brought back all those memories he had worked so hard on keeping carefully buried.

He shifted on the couch, going to stretch out on it. He frowned as his head hit not one of his couch pillows, but something leathery. He sat up and took a look. Fin’s jacket was there. John stared at it in confusion. How in hell had Fin’s jacket stayed here? Why just his jacket, and not Fin?

John put it carefully back on the end of the couch and stretched out again. He dug around on the table for his phone and called Cragen. “I’m taking a personal day,” he told Cragen. “Got some family problems, you know, with my uncle,” he lied.

 _“Take the day,”_ Cragen said. _“We’ve got nothing but paperwork, and Fin should be here today. He can handle it.”_

John felt guilty for saddling Fin with that fucking paperwork again, but he couldn’t muster the energy to get off the couch. He was out of ideas on how to break this fucking loop. He was out of ideas on how they could’ve gotten _into_ this loop. All he knew was that he couldn’t take it anymore.

* * *

Fin was mildly surprised he was back in his own bed—he had half-expected to still be in John’s apartment, even if the loop wasn’t broken. It did seem like John’s apartment had _something_ to do with the loop—look at Munchkin—but Fin was back at home, in his own bed, in his pajamas. He sighed and got up to start the day all over again. Probably another fucking paperwork day, and he was trying to figure out how to pull the completed files into the loop. Clearly things _could_ be pulled into the loop—look at Munchkin—but those fucking files irritatingly reset day after day.

Fin plodded into the bathroom, like every morning. He was thinking about last night’s viewing of Groundhog Day. Bill Murray had started off as an arrogant prick, but Fin didn’t think either he or John were arrogant. Sure, he was reserved, but he didn’t think it came off as arrogance—and he certainly already helped people, look at his field of work.

Fin splashed water on his face, washing off the shaving cream. Maybe their key to getting out of this situation was different.

He headed into work, surprised not to see John there yet. Well, maybe he had to go and rebuy everything for Munchkin. Fin wondered if Alfred would stay in the loop if he went to go adopt him—he sure as fuck could use some animal companionship, too. He’d ask John today which shelter all those dogs and cats had come from when he got in and give it a go. Maybe he’d have a miracle time-loop baby, too, and the thought cheered him up somewhat.

Fin reached for a file morosely and started working on it. Not a scrap of paper was missing, no evidence of their paper airplane fight from two same-days ago. With his free hand, Fin rolled their ball around his desk, wondering where John was. Surely it didn’t take _that_ long to rebuy all the kitten supplies, especially since John now knew exactly what Munchkin liked.

* * *

John had managed to get up to feed Marmalade. Marmalade was lapping happily at her breakfast, and John stroked her head, scratching her ears. He smiled wanly when Marmalade looked up at him, formula on her nose. She meowed, and he tapped her nose playfully. She batted a paw at his hand. John scratched her head again and left her to her breakfast. He headed back to the couch and stretched out again, staring at the ceiling blankly.

He felt down, incredibly down. He didn’t feel like doing anything. He didn’t feel like reading any of his books, or putting the tv on, or pulling his computer out, or even playing with Marmalade. He didn’t want to leave his apartment, either.

Memories pressed in on him. That fucking shooting. Standing there, unharmed, not a drop, not a scratch on him, just… just his shoes, God, his shoes, his fucking shoes, the blood. How had he not noticed the blood until the hospital?

He had buried that memory so carefully, deep in mind. He hadn’t thought about Pratt in… God, ten years now, maybe. Maybe more. He thought about that fucking nude photo more often, and _there_ was something he had tried to forget about completely, too.

Marmalade pounced on him and curled up on his chest. John, with difficulty—his arm felt so heavy, like lead—placed his hand on her back, but he didn’t move it, just resting it on her soft fur. Marmalade yawned deeply and tucked her head into the curl, then fell asleep.

John wished he could do the same—he was so, so tired. So weary. Right now, he was worn out, tired of everything. He was sick of his job, of the never-ending brutality, of the sick as fuck perverts, of the victims who took so much out of him, especially the children.

He felt like he had given, and given, and given, and there was nothing left to give. Four marriages, nothing to show for it, a non-existent love life, not much of a social life. He was facing old age alone, wasn’t he? Nothing but demons with him. How had he fucked up this badly? Where had it all gone wrong?

* * *

Fin sighed. He wondered where John was, and, if he was honest, he _really_ wanted to know about the shelter—he was gonna see if dogs were immune to the loop, too. He supposed he could check all the shelters near the precinct—it was unlikely John had hauled those crates very far.

Fin thought about it. Maybe the puppy should be Batman—he certainly wasn’t going to be Batman again, not after that…conversation with Ken. And the puppy had seemed so excited about the prospect. He shut the file he was working on and looked around. Probably no one would notice if he snuck out.

He went to grab his coat and realized he hadn’t worn it in today. Fin frowned in thought, wondering how he’d forgotten his coat this morning. Every morning, he did it the exact same way—holster, badge, gun, coat. He checked. He had his holster, he had his badge, he had his gun. He thought about it. Had his coat even been in its place? He couldn’t remember, so many same-days and actual separate days clouding his memory, especially since he did this on autopilot.

He let it go for now—if he didn’t leave now, he’d get stuck here, working more on those case files. Cragen was due to return in—Fin checked his watch—three minutes, if this same-day didn’t vary from the other paperwork same-days where Gwen didn’t show up.

Fin made his escape and realized he should’ve started by looking up nearby animal shelters. No matter, he could duck into an internet café and look it up there. Any longer in the squad room, and he’d’ve gotten stuck there until late afternoon unless he came up with some flimsy excuse again, not that Cragen remembered yesterday’s flimsy excuse.

Armed with a list of animal shelters, Fin started with the nearest one, determined to find Alfred/Batman. Hopefully Batman’d stay—cats were wily little fucks, which was probably why Munchkin was still around, but dogs were loyal, so maybe Batman would still be there tomorrow. Assuming Fin found him.

* * *

John hadn’t moved in hours. Moving was a chore, was so, so hard. He was going to have to move, though, his bladder was full—had been full for a while now, but he’d been ignoring it as long as he could. Every movement, no matter how small, sapped energy from him that he simply didn’t have.

Marmalade had long ago gotten up from her nap on his chest, and was batting a ball around the floor.

John rolled off the couch heavily, landing on the floor in a pile. With a grunt, he pushed himself up and plodded slowly into the bathroom. Marmalade came with him, twining around his legs, rubbing her head against his calf.

John pissed and considered his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands.

What did he have left to offer?

Would he ever get out of this loop?

Would he ever find love?

Would it ever get easier?

He felt like he was suffocating. The air itself felt heavy, like water. Each breath was an effort.

Was this how his father had felt?

He went slowly to his computer. There was someone who he could talk to about this.

 _I don’t want to keep going_ , he typed.

Amy Solwey’s answer came quickly. _You know my views, John_.

 _I do_ , he answered. _I don’t know what to do. It’s so hard to keep going._

 _I can’t tell you what to do_ , she typed back. _Suicide is a personal choice, not something anyone else can make for you._ ** _You_** _have to decide if you’re done with life, if the pain is too much, or if you want to keep going. It_ ** _has_** _to be up to you, John_.

John thought about that. Honestly, he shouldn’t have expected anything different, although it was good to know she didn’t talk people into killing themselves if they were unsure.

 _What’s going on, John?_ she typed finally.

John paused. Did he want to tell her? Could he… yeah, he could. What did it matter at this point, anyway? Chances were, she wouldn’t remember this conversation, anyway.

 _You know that stupid Groundhog Day movie? Well, I’m living it. I’m stuck in the same day. Today, Friday, 10/23/09. I think this is the ninth time I’m going through today, but at this point, I’m starting to lose track. It’s getting to me, Amy. I don’t know how to get out of it_.

Amy’s answer came quickly. _I’m surprised, John, this seems just like the kind of puzzle you’d enjoy solving_.

John was absurdly grateful she didn’t doubt him for a moment about the loop. He didn’t think he could handle it right now.

_I’m out of ideas, Amy. I don’t know how or why this started, and I don’t know how to break it. Everything I’ve tried so far has led nowhere, and I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind. Spent all day lost in memories. I had a deep, dark confession session last night with Fin, and all it did was bring up memories better left buried. I’ve done things that are better off staying in the past._

_We all have, John. It sounds like you haven’t dealt with it._

_I don’t intend to. I don’t have regrets. I don’t want to think about it anymore, and I want to get the fuck out of this loop in whatever way possible._

_Maybe you should think about it. This shouldn’t be an impulsive decision._

_I can’t do this another day. I can’t keep doing the same paperwork, having the same conversations, seeing everyone but Fin and me go through similar motions all day, every time. What if my damn ex shows up yet again? She has two of these days. I can’t handle dealing with her a third in such a short period of time._

_Fin is stuck in the loop too?_ Amy asked.

_Yeah. I feel guilty about that. It’s probably my fault he’s stuck in this._

_How?_

_I don’t know_ , John admitted. _But it feels like it is. Maybe…maybe if I do this, I break the loop and Fin’s free._

_Would he want that?_

_I can’t imagine he wants a tenth—or whateverth—Friday, 10/23/09. I sure as fuck don’t._

_It sounds like you’re running from a lot_ , Amy typed. _But from what I remember about the John Munch who came to visit me, he never would give up._

_I’m so tired, Amy. I’m so weary of this endless fight. All I see all day is brutality. I see shattered victims, many of them children. I have to listen to sick bastards tell us what they did. How much more can I take?_

_John, we all have moments when our jobs are too much. Even me, and I bring life into the world. You’ve always loved your job. What_ else _is going on?_

John sighed and thought about it. About whether he wanted to talk about it at all. _I feel so alone_ , he typed. _I’ve been married four times, each time an absolute fucking disaster. No relationship of mine has really lasted, I’ve never really found love. I don’t even socialize that much. My best friend is my partner._

_There’s no shame in that. I remember him, he seemed like a good guy, like someone who’d be good for you._

John hesitated again. Did he want to tell her about those nebulous feelings of attraction towards Fin he was having? He decided against it. It would just distract from the main issue, although there was a part of him that wished Fin felt the same. It hurt, too, that Fin had bolted like that after that kiss and that he had made no mention of it and no other moves towards John. But that was a very, very minor side issue.

 _I just feel done_ , he typed finally. _I’ve accomplished nothing. I… Amy. I can’t go on._

_If that’s how you really, really feel, John, I’m not going to stop you. But you know it’s an irreversible decision, so think carefully._

_Thank you, Amy. Goodbye._

He logged off and grabbed his gun. He sat down on his couch and just held the gun, staring at it, thinking.

* * *

Fin was still at the first animal shelter. It was a large place, chock-full of animals, and Fin thought he recognized some of these dogs and cats, although he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t gotten that good a look at most of the menagerie John had let loose in the precinct, but if John had gotten the animals from here, John admired his restraint in not getting _more_. There had to be hundreds of animals—how was he ever going to find Batman? Assuming this was the right shelter, anyway.

He moved from cage to cage, looking for his puppy. A couple looked similar, but they didn’t respond when Fin declared, “I’m Batman!” Would Batman still bark at that?

Fin rounded a corner, feeling weary and tired. Last night had worn him out, and this search wasn’t helping. He started calling, “Batman! Baaaatmaaaan!” hoping the puppy would respond. He heard excited barking—why _did_ the puppy like the word Batman so much, anyway?—and walked faster.

There he was! Alfred—well, Batman, now. He bent down and reached a hand gingerly into the cage, scratching Batman’s head.

“Hey, Batman,” Fin said softly. “You wanna come home with me, boy?”

He scratched behind Batman’s ears for a moment, then withdrew his hand and stood up. He marked down the cage number and headed back to the front desk to start the paperwork to adopt Batman.

An hour later, Fin was leading Batman out of the shelter on a leash. Hopefully, the next same-day Batman would still be there, or even break the loop—maybe they both needed to adopt pets.

Fin considered stocking up on toys and food for Batman. He looked down at Batman, who was curiously sniffing everything in his path, and decided he was going to get supplies now. Maybe it would ensure Batman hung around, stuck in the loop too.

* * *

John was still on his couch, gun in his hand. His thoughts were disjointed, not very clear. It was getting to be late afternoon, and at some point, it would click over to the beginning of the next same-day, and he could not face doing this one more fucking time.

Fin hadn’t been in touch today, John realized. John knew he hadn’t gone into work, where he would’ve seen Fin, but he would’ve expected Fin to at least call, especially since they were in this fucking thing together. Was Fin avoiding him? Did Fin think less of him because of his confession? Had Fin thought about it and decided John was a dirty cop, no better than that fuck-up of a partner Fin had had a year or so ago, Lake? Did Fin not want to deal with something like that again? John was saddened by that, but he could understand it.

Fin had seemed understanding last night, but maybe he had thought about it more, decided it wasn’t something he could deal with. After all, John hadn’t shot someone in self-defense or anything like that. It wasn’t by the book. He was, technically, a murderer, and he felt no remorse. Maybe it was worse that he felt no remorse.

John considered texting or calling Fin, but if Fin didn’t want to deal with him anymore, he wasn’t going to push it, put Fin in an awkward position.

John thought about going through the rest of this fucking loop without Fin and sighed. Those first few days of the loop, when he thought he was all alone, had been so hard—he couldn’t do it all over again.

It was all too much. He couldn’t do this anymore.

He looked down at his gun. He raised it, hoping it would only hurt briefly.

Marmalade jumped into his lap, her stuffed mouse toy in her mouth.

John lowered the gun.

He’d forgotten about his little miracle baby-girl. Who’d take care of her if he left?

He switched the gun to his left hand and stroked her fur. Marmalade purred contentedly in his lap, and John felt his eyes fill with tears. He still felt so, so down. He pet Marmalade, scratching under her chin idly.

Could he stick around just for Marmalade? Was she enough to get him through this?

He didn’t want his darling baby to go back to the shelter, but maybe Fin would take her in. Fin had liked her.

He toyed with the gun again, thinking.

* * *

Fin had gotten home with Batman and all the supplies for his new puppy. He looked at the hook and frowned. His coat wasn’t there either. No wonder he’d forgotten it this morning. Fin thought hard about where it could be. Last time he remembered having it, he was in John’s apartment. Probably it was still there. He _knew_ there was something weird about John’s apartment, he thought triumphantly. He’d head over there to pick his coat up and have John and Munchkin meet Batman.

Fin frowned in realization. He hadn’t heard from John at all today. Not even a message in the morning that he’d be out. Just radio silence. Fin started worrying. John’s mood had improved ever since he’d found out Fin was in the loop too, but Fin remembered how low-energy John had been before then. Maybe last night’s confession session had pulled John down again, and Fin decided to head over now.

“C’mon, Batman,” he called. “Time for you to meet John and Munchkin.” Batman bounded over, and Fin hooked his leash into his collar.

Fin headed out, Batman coming along eagerly. He wondered if he should call John first, but something held him back. He felt like he needed to go there, like something was wrong.

Fin arrived at John’s apartment and knocked. No answer. He sighed. He was worried, actually really worried, and he dug around on his keychain for John’s spare. They had exchanged keys in case of emergency several years ago, about when John had told him that he had listed Fin as his emergency contact.

“Who else is there?” John had said. “And by now, you know what I’d want.”

Fin unlocked the door and pushed it open.

John was sitting listlessly in a chair, Munchkin in his lap, gun in his hand.

“John!” Fin said, striding over to him.

John looked up at him. “Fin?”

“What on Earth are you thinking?” Fin demanded, waving a hand at the gun. He wasn’t worried about his own safety, he _knew_ John wouldn’t shoot _him_.

“I can’t keep doing this, Fin,” John said softly. “And maybe if I’m gone, you’ll be out of the loop. Take care of Marmalade for me, will you?”

“I absolutely will not!” Fin snapped. “I’d rather spend the rest of eternity stuck in this fucking day than escape it without you, John! I don’t care if I’m stuck forever, I ain’t leavin’ if the price is your life!”

John smiled sadly at him. “I don’t want to spend eternity reliving today, Fin.”

“John, we can break this loop. WE can get out of this. But suicide isn’t the answer.”

John just shook his head.

Fin came closer. “John. I’d miss you. Please. Please, don’t do this.”

Fin was really scared now. In Groundhog Day, Bill Murray survived all his suicide attempts, but what if John didn’t? Their situation wasn’t a perfect parallel, after all. What if it really did break Fin free of the loop? He would miss John terribly. He hadn’t realized until now just how much John meant to him, but the realization that he could lose John… well, he had known already John was his best friend, of course, but he had sort of assumed it was by default, a consequence of too much time at work in John’s company. He was realizing right now that it ran far, far deeper than that, that John would be his best friend _anyway_ , even if they didn’t work together anymore, and he couldn’t lose John, especially not like this.

“Give me the gun, John,” Fin begged. “Please. John.”

John reluctantly handed it over to Fin. “I’ve just been so down all day, Fin,” he said.

Fin sat down next to John on the couch and pulled him into a reassuring hug. He wasn’t big on hugs—neither was John, really—but it seemed like John could use the comfort right now. John leaned into the hug, careful not to disrupt Marmalade.

Batman leapt onto Fin’s lap, peering into Marmalade’s face. Marmalade stuck her tongue out and licked Batman.

John laughed shakily, shrugging Fin’s arms off. It had felt good—too good. He needed space before he followed Fin’s thought from a couple same-nights back.

“I see you found Alfred,” John said, petting the puppy. “You adopt him?”

“I did, hopefully he stays,” Fin answered. “And I named him Batman. I’m certainly not going to be Batman again.”

Batman jumped off Fin’s lap and went exploring. Marmalade jumped after him. “Looks like him and Munchkin are friends already,” Fin commented.

“I _told_ you, her name’s Marmalade,” John said with a sigh. “You staying for a bit?” he asked hopefully. He really didn’t want to be alone right now.

“Yeah, I think I should,” Fin said, sneaking a look at John. “You got anything to eat?”

“A strawberry yogurt I was too depressed to eat this morning,” John answered. “Which, at this point, I’ve eaten maybe seven times already.”

“I’ve had the same fucking bowl of cereal for the past I don’t even know how many days,” Fin answered. “And the worst is, it’s a new kind I was trying out that I don’t even like that much!”

“You starting to lose track of how many same-days it’s been, too?”

“Yeah. Either eight or nine, I think. Maybe ten. Fuck, I don’t know. Too many. Why is it that the shit you bought for Munchkin stays in your apartment, but any food I bring home is gone the next day?”

“No idea,” John said. “And don’t say it has to do with my apartment, because whatever I get for dinner is gone the next day, too. The _only_ things that haven’t disappeared are _Marmalade’s_ stuff.”

“And my jacket,” Fin added, spying it on the couch. “How the fuck did that happen?”

John shrugged. “At this point, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say _that_ ,” Fin teased.

Batman careened over, barking, Marmalade nowhere near him.

“They have a fight?” John wondered, standing up to look for his kitty. He felt better. Still down, but not nearly so hopeless. It felt like there was something worth going on for. He didn’t want to spend eternity in this loop, but this day was better than no day, he guessed.

He scooped up Marmalade, pressed a kiss to her little kitty head, and headed back to the couch. “There’s Alfred,” he cooed to Marmalade.

Fin shot him a dirty look but said nothing.

“Guess we should figure out dinner,” John said. “I think delivery, I’m not comfortable leaving two brand-new pets in my apartment. Things around Marmalade don’t seem to reset.”

“Hope that’s true for Batman, too,” Fin said, giving his puppy a kiss. “I love him already. Don’t I, Batman?” Batman barked at him.

“He is a cutie,” John agreed. “Can’t imagine why someone would give him _or_ Marmalade up. You know, I always wanted a pet, kept putting it off ’cause of the job.”

“Me too,” Fin said. “Kinda glad for the loop, since it brought me Batman. Who’s a good boy?” he cooed at Batman. Batman licked his face.

“I’m not sure I’d go _that_ far,” John said.

“Well, maybe not, especially if Batman here disappears overnight.” He hugged Batman close, hoping that whatever was affecting them would start affecting Batman, too.

They ate dinner—pizza this time—and chatted about lighter topics for some time while watching the pets play.

Fin stood up and stretched. “I think Batman and I are gonna head home, if you’re okay, John.”

John nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, Fin.”

“You promise? Please don’t do anything stupid. I can stay if you need or want me to.”

“No, I’m okay. Go home, but thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Hey,” Fin said. “Listen. You need me, you call. Anytime. I mean it, John. I don’t want to lose you. Fuck, you scared me today.”

John nodded. “I’ll call you, Fin, I promise. But I think I’ll be fine. Probably sleep through the night—I have been since this fucking loop started. Let me know tomorrow if Alfred hung around.”

“Will do. Bye, John, take care of yourself. Bye, Munchkin.”

Fin left with Batman. He didn’t think John would do anything now, and it surprised him how very much he would miss John. He looked up at John’s apartment building. It was definitely something to think about.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up around mid-week, most likely Wednesday or Thursday. And I promise there will finally be some payoff for those have been waiting patiently for certain things to, well, come together. ;)


	10. Prospect Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Fin decide to take this (same-)day off and relax with Batman and Marmalade. Later that evening, drinking leads to more confessions and confrontations—and brings their relationship to an entirely new level.

 

**Chapter 10**

The buzzing of that six o’clock alarm was no surprise to Fin. In fact at this point hearing it was hardly a disappointment or annoyance, despite his nightly ritual of smashing it with a hammer. (He knew breaking the alarm didn’t stop the day from repeating, but he kept up the routine because the destructive act itself was so gratifying.)

Sitting up, he glanced around his bedroom with anxious excitement. He had to know one thing soon as possible, before he could face anything else this same-day.

“Batman?” he called. His heart sank when he didn’t see the puppy right away. He feared that Batman hadn’t gotten stuck in the loop as he’d hoped. Maybe he would have to stay at John’s apartment for that to happen, even if that didn’t explain how he had fallen into it himself in the first place.

“Batman, come here, boy!” he tried again. Fin was about to despair and give up when he heard the sound of puppy nails scampering across his hardwood floors. Batman came bounding into the bedroom and jumped onto the bed, barking at him in excitement.

“Hey! There you are, good buddy. Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.” Happiness almost overwhelmed him at having Batman still here. He had to tell John immediately. “Let’s get you some breakfast and tell Munch you stuck around.”

Fin got out of bed, took a leak, but held off on immediately getting in the shower as he usually did. Instead he went to the kitchen to fill Batman’s dry food bowl. Yes, it was still there, like Marmalade’s things had stayed at John’s. He gave the puppy breakfast and started up his morning coffee. He couldn’t wait to share the exciting news with John, and to also check in on his partner as soon as possible.

From now on, as long as they were stuck in this loop, he wasn’t going to let so many hours of the day go by without making sure he was okay. He felt guilty he hadn't picked up on the depths of depression John had been fighting, and wondered how long it might have been there beneath the surface, even before this loop had begun. Finding John with that gun in his hand and so despondent last night had shaken him, brought back bad memories.

_That social worker who killed herself when I went to see her, because she couldn't take her own guilt, the harassment…that was bad enough. But if I ever lost John like that, I could never forgive myself._

Fin dialed the familiar number and John’s phone rang three times before he picked up. _“Hey, Fin.”_

“John. Guess who I’ve got here with me this morning?”

There was only a short pause before, _“Batman?”_

“Uh huh. So maybe it’s not something about your apartment...though we both were over there last night,” Fin added, not ready to give up on his pet theory yet.

_“I’m glad that your buddy stuck around.”_

“And all his food and other supplies.” Fin grinned to himself as a crazy thought struck him. “Hey, what if we’re supposed to start some kind of animal rescue operation or something? Think that could be what’s happening?”

_“Don’t give me any ideas.”_

“Yeah, true.” John sounded much more like his normal, sharp-witted self today, which was a relief. But that didn’t mean Fin was going to take things—especially his friend—for granted. “So what do you want to do today? I’m kind of nervous ’bout leaving Batman alone here and going in to work, least not until I’m sure he’s used to the place, and to me.”

_“You feel like staying close to home today, that’s fine. Maybe I’ll go in to the 16th for the distraction, see if anything new happens.”_

“You could…but why don’t you come over here?” Fin said. “I was gonna take Batman for a walk in Prospect Park, it’s not too far from my apartment. Bet Marmalade would enjoy the outdoors, too.”

_“...Sure, why not. Want me to call in the Chinese food poisoning excuse today?”_

“That works. Say around noon? We can get some lunch and then hit the park.”

_“Okay, I’ll see you then.”_

“All right. Later.” Fin hung up and felt good about the day ahead of them. They’d had a few rough and crazy ones, but he had a hunch this same-day was going to be better. They both deserved some rest and relaxation for a change.

* * *

John hung up his phone and snuggled back in bed with Marmalade. He smiled to himself, glad that Fin had Batman with him now for companionship. And he was glad, too, for Fin’s obvious concern, checking in on him first thing this morning. It made his worries last same-day that Fin would abandon him because of the secrets he’d shared seem particularly foolish. But that’s what depression could do to you; twist your thoughts all up until it was hard to see anything beyond your own despair. He wouldn’t say he was feeling _completely_ better today, but a great deal of the darkness had lifted.

_Today’s a new day…even if it’s the same day as the one before._

He got up and went through his morning routine, which now involved feeding Marmalade and scooping her litter box. “Would be nice if this litter box would reset itself clean,” he said to himself and to the cat. But even as he complained, a sudden realization came to his mind.

Her dry food bag, and the litter bag...they didn’t “reset” either. Food he put out didn’t magically reappear the next day, and he’d have to start on a fresh bag of litter soon.

He tore off a section of the half-empty litter bag, a piece approximately the size of a sheet of paper. The inside was dull brown, like a brown paper bag from the supermarket. Could he use this as writing paper, and have whatever he wrote down on it actually remain the next day?

The thought excited him. He’d have to test the theory today to find out for sure next same-day, of course. But to finally have a way to write notes to himself that would last, a way to at least track the passage of _days_ beyond his slipping memory? That was a possibility he’d have to share with Fin when he saw him later on.

While drinking his coffee, John got out his laptop to surf around a bit, kill the lazy morning hours. He saw those same emails from Gwen sitting in his inbox. He debated opening them finally, but then thought better of it. He didn’t need her crazy ideas filling his head when he was picking himself up out of a funk, especially when he knew it would be some kind of insane ramblings regarding Peter Harrison. Responding to her would do neither of them any good, and might even encourage her to come seek him out today. She was the _last_ person he needed to see right now.

He did decide to send an email to someone else, however, while the thought was in his head. He wouldn’t try chatting with her today and she wouldn’t have any idea what he was referring to, but he felt it necessary to say something.

> _Amy,_
> 
> _You’ll have no idea what I’m talking about, but I wanted to thank you for being there_ _when I needed you, and not judging. I hope you know I’d always do the same for you._
> 
> _Things are looking better today._
> 
> _Your friend,_ _John_

* * *

As promised, John showed up at Fin’s apartment around noon. Fin opened the door and found Marmalade perched upon the sergeant's shoulder, an elaborate tangle of straps around her petite frame.

“The hell is with that thing?” Fin asked.

“Harness training. Don’t want her getting spooked and running off in the park, even if she’s chill hanging on for the ride most of the time.”

“‘Chill’?” Fin repeated.

“Yes?”

“‘Chill’ is not a word that sounds right rollin’ off your tongue, John.”

“Be glad I left the cat stroller at home. Figured we’d see how she does without it today, especially as she seems intent on being a shoulder cat. Hey, Batman!” John kneeled down to greet the puppy as he came charging over, all noisy barks and head butts. Marmalade jumped off for the moment to scamper and sniff around her new surroundings.

Fin found himself grinning, pleased at the sight of John smiling and seeming so happy—and that he remembered the dog’s name and didn't call him Alfred again. He realized how rare it was he actually _saw_ John smile, with genuine happiness instead of smirking sarcasm. It made him feel sad their usual days afforded so few opportunities for that.

“So did you want to grab lunch or hit the park right away?” Fin asked. “There’s a place nearby, outdoor tables...it’s a sunny day and usually there’s people there with their dogs hangin’ out.”

“Sure, I couldn’t take another yogurt for breakfast this morning so I’m ready for some real food.”

“I’ll get my shoes and Batman’s leash.”

* * *

At least the weather on Friday, October 23 was pleasant enough. It would have sucked to be stuck in an endless loop of cold, Autumn rain. The two men were able to get a table outside at the café so they could enjoy the fair weather. Their server brought Batman a water bowl, oohing and aahing over him and tiny Marmalade, who had settled into John’s lap for a nap.

“She’s so _cute!_ ” the young woman sighed, and John beamed up like a proud papa.

“Yes, she’s my sweet baby-girl.”

“Awwww. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“I should have gotten a dog ages ago. Chicks seem to dig the pets,” Fin said after she left.

“You mean to suggest that we’re lacking inherent sex appeal on our own? Speak for yourself.”

Fin snorted and focused for a minute on the menu. Or at least he tried to, so he could pick something to order. He wouldn’t admit it, not even (really) to himself, but something about the way John looked today was...well, pleasingly distracting to his eyes. It was unusual to see his partner out of his normal work attire, in a more casual outfit of black jeans, sweater and jacket. His hair looked like he hadn’t fussed or styled it, and he simply appeared...relaxed, comfortable. It was a good look on him. Fin almost started to say so, to encourage John’s better mood. But then he felt silly for it and for being so preoccupied with these thoughts.

A few minutes passed in companionable quietude until their waitress reappeared with two Bloody Marys, as ordered. “Here you go. You two kicking off the weekend early?”

“Feels like we’ve been trying to kick the weekend off for _weeks_ ,” John answered. “So we’ll see if this helps move it along.”

They ordered—a Greek omelette for John, cheeseburger for Fin—and talked over their latest thoughts on the situation.

“Have you had any fresh insight on how we get out of this?” John asked.

“Not really. Doesn’t seem that it comes down to breakin’ out of the routine at work or not...we tried staying up late and it almost seemed our bodies wouldn’t let us stay awake past a certain hour…”

John nodded. “We both managed to bring animals in with us. We haven’t tried doing that with another person...”

“Yeah, but why would we want to do that?” Fin asked. He didn’t want Ken or one of their co-workers stuck in this loop with them.

“True. I was noticing that most of the variations in the day seem related to things at the precinct. That’s the only thing that’s crossed my mind. The world news is always the same, the weather, things outside of our immediate circle. But what changes is whether we catch a case or not, if Gwen shows up...”

Fin rolled his eyes at the mention of her name. “So you’re thinking it’s something work-related?”

“I just wonder if we need to put our detective skills more _to_ work at the 16th. Systematically break down the day somehow, consider grilling our fellow officers and detectives for clues. When we’ve been there we’ve tended to be off in our own private hell of paperwork.”

Fin contemplated, and added, “If it is related to the job, maybe someone _else_ there is stuck in the loop already. But they could be covering it up like we are, trying to act like everything is fine.”

“Exactly.”

“Makes as much sense as anything.”

After they finished up their lunches, they didn’t linger too long. Batman was becoming anxious to get moving and Fin could use the exercise after the filling meal. “We’ll just take the check,” John told their server after she asked if they were interested in any dessert.

“Got busy plans for the rest of your day?”

“Not really. Going for a walk in the park. Only got the puppy and want to show him a good day,” Fin said.

“That’s so sweet. You two are such a cute couple, hope I’ll see you both again soon!”

Fin opened his mouth to protest as she dashed off to another customer, and John snickered. “Stop that,” Fin warned.

“It was a fair guess to make, given the circumstances. Liv jokes we sound like an old married couple all the time.”

Fin sighed. “Whatever.” He wasn’t going to acknowledge that statement...even if he knew there was a certain truth behind it. “Let’s pay the bill and get out of here.”

* * *

Batman loved his afternoon in the park, but then, what dog wouldn’t? With winding tree-lined trails to wander along, plenty of squirrels to chase up those trees, and large open fields filled with other dogs to sniff, it was a true puppy paradise.

“Too bad you can’t let him off leash,” John said.

“Early mornings and late evenings you can. I saw a sign mentioning that at the entrance to the park. I’ll have to bring him here before work some days.”

They’d taken a moment to rest in Long Meadow, sitting down on the grass as John explained his thoughts on using the cat food or litter bags as lasting writing materials. Marmalade was well-occupied swatting at any insects that happened to buzz by, and even Batman looked like he needed a breather.

Together Fin and John were able to piece together a full timeline of how many days they’d been through the loop so far: this was the tenth repetition, they were both certain now. They'd decided to label the first, original October 23 as “Day Zero” and begin the numbering from there. So Day Three was “Melinda Test Day”, Day Seven was “Batman and Catwoman Day”, and they made similar quick notes on every other repetition.

As they counted along, and got to last same-day, Day Nine, Fin was quick to suggest, “That was the day I took home Batman from the animal shelter.” John met his eyes briefly, peering over the lenses of his glasses, and nodded, accepting that description. There was no need to list it otherwise.

“That’s right,” John said. “So Day Ten we’ll list as ‘Prospect Park’. Easy to remember...for now, at least. You know, all the years I’ve lived here in New York I don’t think I’ve ever been to this park? Not even on a case.”

“The only reason I know the park at all is from my Narcotics days,” Fin admitted. “I can tell you where all the dealers hang out, or at least where they used to. But I never came here to enjoy it, you know?”

“Yeah. I guess if nothing else we can use this loop to see more of this city as tourists would, instead of detectives.” John folded up his list of days and stuck it in his wallet, then laid back on the grass, gazing upward. “Stop and smell the roses...if only they were in bloom. I’ll miss Springtime if we never see it again.”

“I won’t miss Winter. Slopping’ around in dirty snow and wet boots all day, stakeouts in the freezing cold.” Lying down like that, Fin couldn’t help but notice the patch of bare skin of John’s tummy, where his sweater pulled up away from his waist. He didn’t mean to stare, but...the sight had his eyes transfixed. For a moment he was overwhelmed by a strange compulsion to reach over and touch that skin...

 _Fuck._ He needed to think about something else. “What d’you feel up for doing later, anything? Or you goin’ home after this?” Fin asked.

“I go home and I’ll stare at the walls or my computer screen until I pass out. Suppose we could go back to your place for a while, watch a movie or something. Might as well catch up on new releases while we’ve got the time. Unless you’re sick of me hanging around.”

“Nah. Go stir-crazy by myself.” Which was true. Fin hadn’t quite appreciated how much of his life was spent with John on or around the job until they’d stopped sticking to a strict workday schedule. “We can see what’s at the video store near my place, grab some take-out nearby. Get some wings, or hoagies for a change?”

“Maybe I should start using this loop to finally learn to cook so I could save some money on take-out food.”

“I can cook. Want me to make something tonight?” Fin offered.

“I didn’t know you were a culinary expert, Fin. Since when?”

“Since my momma taught me. Nothing fancy, I mean, but I’m all right. It’s just...” Fin trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. “Isn’t much fun or worth the trouble cooking for one person, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I can pick up some steaks, something simple on the way back to my place tonight. Bet Batman here wouldn’t mind that, right?” Fin scratched the dog’s ears and grinned at his eager response. Suddenly he was anticipating tonight—to having John over, having someone to cook for. Seemed silly that it had taken all these years and something as crazy as their being in this time loop for it to happen.

* * *

John stayed with the animals outside the grocery store while Fin shopped for dinner. Then John took his turn inside the video shop, browsing for anything interesting to watch. At least they wouldn’t have to return the DVDs tomorrow, he thought, grabbing a couple new releases that struck his interest. He’d been meaning to see District 9 after reading about it, and guessed Fin might be into the latest X-Men movie, Wolverine.

Before returning to Fin’s apartment, John went back to his car to get more cat supplies out of the trunk. “I bought an extra litter pan in case I decided to bring Marmalade in to work with me,” he explained. “Plus I kept some of her formula and food in the trunk in case of emergencies. Carry this bag up for me?”

Fin shook his head. “Like I said, you’re turning into a crazy cat lady, Munch.”

“Would you rather cat piss on your carpets?”

“No, thank you.” Fin took the shopping bag in one hand as he shifted Batman’s leash to the other. “Might as well leave some cat stuff at my apartment, anyway,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, I mean…I’m sure Munchkin will be over to visit more often, right, little one?” Fin liked the cat, too, and leaned in to give her a bop on the nose.

“ _Marmalade_ says that’s fine, as long as you start using her proper name.”

* * *

Dinner was easy, Fin busy in the kitchen while John played with Marmalade and Batman. Pan-fried steaks, a couple baked potatoes, and salad-in-a-bag so they could claim that they’d gotten some greens in their system for the day.

“Nothin’ fancy but hope it’s all right,” Fin said when they sat down to eat.

“Are you kidding? I’ll take a home-cooked meal over four-star dining out at a restaurant any day. You know, you’d make someone a great wife, Fin.”

“Say that again and this is the last time I’ll ever make dinner for you.” Not that he meant it; cooking for someone else made him feel good. In fact he’d forgotten how much it could bring him satisfaction.

After dinner they moved over to the sofa, which naturally faced Fin’s enormous entertainment center. “Good thing we’re watching these here instead of on your shitty old tv.”

“Which movie do you want to start with?” John asked.

“That sci-fi flick you picked out. Unless it’s boring, then I’m taking a nap.” Fin yawned, popping open his second beer of the night. John had his own beer, and had also brought out Fin’s bottle of Jack Daniels and some shot glasses so they could do chasers. Marmalade had made herself a nest on Fin’s lounge chair while Batman curled up near Fin’s feet.

A few hours later and well into the second movie (Fin had declared the first not-boring, but definitely _weird_ ), the beer was long gone and shot glasses seemed too much trouble to even bother using. It was easier to pass the bottle back and forth between them on the sofa while losing interest in the movie they were theoretically watching—along with the ability to follow the plot-line, if they even still cared.

“You ever worry this job is gonna turn you into a full-blown alcoholic?” Fin asked after a while.

“Not really. For one thing, I hate drinking alone. Or even in a bar full of strangers. Tried _that_ the other night and it only made me feel worse, not better.”

“Yeah, never dug that scene either.”

“But for another, that’s the one problem that _doesn’t_ seem passed down through my genetic history. Suicidal depression? Sure! Alcoholism? Not the Munch ailment. So I guess I’ll be happy for that minor favor.” He was quiet for a moment, then continued, “I never told you, did I? Another secret, although this one I’ve shared with two other people, so you should know, too. I should have told you years ago. My father killed himself, when I was a teenager. My uncle’s slowly dying of depression-linked dementia and my father didn’t even make it to my age before he blew his brains out. Doesn’t bode well for my future, does it?”

Fin was stunned silent. “I’m sorry, man,” he finally managed. “I didn’t know, ’bout your dad.”

“Only Huang does. And Amy. Amy Solwey. That’s…sort of how, and why, we became friends. I thought…I needed to understand why someone would do that to their family and friends, put people they claimed to love through that guilt and pain. I’d always blamed myself for what my father did, thought it was because I was a smart-ass, lousy kid. Why else was he always yelling at me, beating the shit out of me?” John laughed, but it wasn’t out of good humor. “I didn’t see it as his depression, never understood what it meant to feel that hopeless, even when I’ve been through more than my share of rough patches. Now I do. So there’s one lesson learned from this experience.”

John accepted the whisky bottle from Fin and took another swig while Fin sat silent, stewing in his thoughts. Finally he blurted out, “You scared the _hell_ out of me yesterday, John.”

“I’m sorry.” And his remorse appeared genuine, but Fin had more he needed to say now that the booze had loosened his tongue. The thoughts that had plagued his early waking hours now came spilling out in a torrent.

“I know this situation is fucked up, but don’t you ever do that to me again.” There was no way Fin could face being in this loop on his own. And certainly _not_ if his friend killed himself because of it. “Don’t ever—bad enough I had that one woman kill herself in front of me, a few years back. If it had been _you_ —”

“I _didn’t_ ,” John cut him off. “And I won’t. I said I’m sorry, what more can I tell you?”

“Nothin’, I guess. Just that you meant it, what you promised yesterday. That if you’re ever that low again you’ll come to me right away.”

“Rational me—or at least, _drunk_ me tonight—says of course I will. Depressed me may not think with such clarity.” John passed back the bottle. “I had it in my head yesterday that you didn’t want to talk to me again, not after the things I told you the night before.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly in a rational state of mind at the time. That’s what happens when a person gets depressed.” John smirked and rubbed at his right wrist. “I should get myself another tattoo, a reminder to myself: ‘In case of emergency, call Fin Tutuola’.”

Fin shook his head and rolled his eyes. But the remark did open up the chance to ask John about something he’d noticed a while back, but hadn’t felt right bringing up. The tattoo Fin had spied on John’s left wrist, normally covered by the cuff of his shirt or a rubber wristband: _DON'T PANIC_. He hadn’t figured John for the tattoo type, and hadn’t asked because he had no idea how long that one had been there and he hadn’t taken note. “That what you got that other tattoo for? A message to yourself?”

“Thought it would be a handy reminder—pun not intended.”

“Hah, sure.”

“Helps some days. But other days, words aren’t enough.”

“Not in your own head. You gotta share them, get them out.”

“Maybe.” John fell quiet for a while, as if pretending to give a damn about the latest bad guy Hugh Jackman was beating the shit out of in the movie. Fin offered him the bottle, John took it and another swig. They were long past wincing at the sharp taste of drinking it straight, or even noticing it. “So if you and I can talk about anything at this point—and I mean _anything_...” John began.

“Yeah?” Fin replied, a touch wary.

“Then I want to talk about you kissing me the other night.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.”

Fin reached for the bottle, needing to fortify himself. “Well, you know...we were goofin’ around. Playing characters.”

“Batman and Catwoman.”

“Right.”

“So that’s all it was,” John said.

“That’s all it was.”

“You’re sure.”

“What’re you gettin’ at?” Fin asked.

“You’ve never...never done it, never even been curious about doing stuff with a guy? Sexual stuff.”

“I know what you’re talking about. Have you?”

“I asked you first,” John said, with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

“Jesus, fine! No, I’ve never done anything. Not even a kiss...like that. Never really thought about it until...” Fin stopped himself.

“Until...?” John pressed him.

“No.” Fin shook his head. “You tell _me_ now. _You_ have, haven’t you?”

“Why do you say that?” John replied, all innocence.

“Because you’re bringing it up, like you’re curious to do it again.”

“And you’d be opposed.”

“I’m not gay, John.”

“Neither am I, in case my four previous marriages to women weren’t a clue. But bisexuality is a thing, you know that. Gay, straight...it’s not so cut and dry as a lot of people want to think it is.”

“As if I don’t know _that_ after eight years in SVU.”

“Yeah, but sometimes…Listen, there’s nothing wrong with just having fun with another person. Blowing off some steam. It doesn’t have to mean anything...deep.” John paused, reaching for the bottle. He took a drink and continued, “So yes, okay. I’ve fooled around with guys before. A little bit. A long, long time ago, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It wasn’t.”

“No it wasn’t. Want me to prove it to you?” John put down the bottle of Jack and inched closer to Fin, arm stretching around the back of the sofa. “C’mon, one more kiss. Pretend I’m Catwoman again if you need that to turn you on.”

“John, stop. You’re drunk.”

“So are you. Though apparently not drunk enough to find me sufficiently attractive to kiss,” John said, affecting a small pout.

“That’s not—that ain’t true.”

“Oh, so you _do_ find me attractive.”

“Fuck, John.” Fin dropped his head back on the sofa, which was a bad idea as the room started spinning. He lifted his head before he felt sick and blurted out, “I mean, I guess? Something...sometimes lately...I’ve thought about it. You,” Fin admitted, his face flushing at the admission. He turned redder still at John’s grin.

“And I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t think about you, too, now and then.”

“You’re attracted to me.”

“Let’s just say...” John started, and then decided to forgo words and jump directly into action. He leaned in and for a moment Fin started to panic, almost jumped away. But then he felt John’s mouth pressing against his own, and it didn’t feel at all real, at first. Like his brain couldn’t quite catch up with what was happening to his body. But then it did, and then _he_ did. And then his brain shut down completely—maybe due to all his available blood supply rushing straight to his dick.

John was kissing him, and it felt much as it had the other night, at the big gala they’d crashed. When for a second the costumes and silliness had faded away and it had been only _them._ Kissing. Pressed together. Except that now John tasted of whisky and beer and Fin could smell the lingering scent of the outdoors on him, green grass and Autumn leaves along with his familiar cologne and _fuck—_

John pulled back before Fin’s thoughts could go any further. Fin opened his eyes (not realizing he’d closed them) to find John mere inches from his face, breathing noticeably heavier than before. John was studying him half-over the edge of his glasses, and the desire in his eyes alone made Fin’s cock twitch in approval.

Were they really going to do this? Fin couldn't decide if he were terrified, or more turned on than ever before.

“Let’s...how about we see what feels good, okay?” John said, in a tone of voice unfamiliar and rough, and Fin gave a dull nod. This could be stupid, an incredibly bad idea, he worried. But then John kissed him again, taking it further by flicking his tongue over Fin’s dry lips.

 _Fuck_.

Bad idea or not, Fin wanted more. He wanted John’s tongue in his mouth. He shouldn’t be thinking about reaching up to touch John’s face, about brushing his fingers through his hair, feeling it so soft against his hand and begging to be messed up... But then he was _doing_ it, not merely thinking about. And it felt _really fucking good._

John pulled away again for a moment, though it turned out this time only to put his glasses aside on the coffee table. He left them there, next to the bottle of Jack—what negligible amount remained in the bottle, at least.

“Before we break them, or I fling them off and forget where they are,” he explained with a smile. He looked so different to Fin, as he always did without his glasses. Softer, almost painfully vulnerable. Fin wondered if that was why he always wore them even when he didn’t seem to need them that badly. To hide behind tinted lenses that obscured those deep brown eyes... If Fin himself stared too long he was going to feel something even more urgent inside of himself. And that scared him even more than the idea of screwing around with another guy.

So he wouldn’t think about _that_ at all.

John went for a kiss that ended up a lot more insistent and demanding than their first few tentative attempts. His tongue slipped between Fin’s parted lips, heavy and wet, and Fin met it with his own. The moist, hot contact made him moan again. It felt so intimate...vulgar and hot, he needed to drink in the taste of John and enjoy the violation of his mouth. No, this wasn’t so dissimilar to kissing a woman, he wasn’t sure why he’d thought it would be. If anything it felt more exciting, more...more of what he’d desired, in his heart. Had be simply been scared to ever admit to that?

Fin still couldn’t quite believe they were doing this, but that’s what made it easier to accept, to go with the flow. They were drunk so it didn’t count. They were stuck in a maddening time loop where nothing they did seemed to matter the next day. So why should it matter if they messed around? And it _did_ feel so good...John’s one hand on his face, now, petting, while he sucked on Fin’s lower lip. Fin reached for John’s slim body, hands clutching, tugging at that soft sweater. Grasping...thinking about getting his hands underneath it like he’d wondered about earlier that day, touching his skin...

John must have read his mind. He reached down to pull off the sweater, breaking their kiss only long enough to wriggle it off overhead. He wasn’t wearing a t-shirt underneath, so when he went back for a kiss Fin’s hands met bare skin. John moaned against his mouth. On hearing that reaction Fin had to shift, his pants growing uncomfortably tight in the groin.

John’s skin was cool to the touch, and he was so damn skinny...but hard. Fin appreciated the way he felt, liked how he could feel every lean muscle tense under John’s skin as he responded to his touch. He ran his hand up and down John’s back, urging him even nearer.

Fin shuddered as John’s right hand rubbed against the front of his pants. _Fuck_. It had been such a long time since anyone’s hand other than his own had been there, he had to groan and grind into it. Though a bit more pressure and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t end up coming in his pants.

“John...” he gasped, needing a moment to catch his breath.

“Let me get you off, Fin. Just hands, okay? Can I?”

Fin liked that John asked for permission before going further. As if Fin would say no at this point, when he was so turned on, and when the sound of that voice alone was turning him on. Though maybe he would have hesitated if John had proposed anything else yet. He really wasn’t... _shit._ He didn’t know what he was any longer, because he was getting off on his partner tongue-kissing him, the smell and taste and _presence_ of him this close.

“Please,” Fin answered, squirming as John’s hand went to work on the button of his pants, unzipping his fly. Reaching for him through the opening in his boxers. Fin gasped as soon he felt the touch of John’s hand on his penis.

 _“Fuck,_ John...” He thought he’d been hard before but that hand, on him, John still kissing him...

“Love hearing you say my name like that.”

 _Fuck_ , this was hot, those long fingers stroking him—slowly at first, all the way up and down, as if testing out Fin’s responses. John’s touch was different from his own...the only relief he’d known for so long that the unique sensation of that hand was a huge turn-on. He couldn’t concentrate on kissing any longer when he needed to focus on breathing, needed to control himself if he was going to enjoy this instead of coming too fast. John wasn’t helping, his mouth hot against Fin’s cheek and encouraging him with words, approving murmurs.

John squeezed him tighter, increasing the pressure and the speed of his strokes. “Like this?”

“Yeah— _ah!”_ His reply turned into a strangled cry as John sucked on the skin of his neck, _hard_ , under his jawline, near his ear. He stayed nice and steady with his hand, the way Fin did it, too. Hard, fast, and all the more intense with him sucking and kissing Fin’s neck. He clenched one hand into the sofa cushions as his need for release became more intense by every stroke, every breath he managed.

“Don’t hold back, Fin. Come on, come for me. Want to feel you come in my hand, want to hear you call my name when you come.”

Shit, he should have figured John for a talker, babbling filthy shit at him whenever his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. He wondered if he’d ever be able to hear that voice at work again without thinking of his breath against his ear, coaxing him to orgasm.

“John...”

“Mm hmm...”

John squeezed a little tighter, then flicked his hand over the head of Fin’s penis in an unexpected move that ended up being all it took. “ _John,”_ Fin managed to choke out as came, shuddering at the suddenness of it, the intensity. Glancing down he could see his seed spilling out over John’s fingers, glistening and wet. If he hadn’t already come hard, that sight would have done the trick all on its own.

“Mmm...” John sighed, burying his head in Fin’s neck, kissing him some more. He caressed Fin’s cock with gentleness now, continuing with lazy, light strokes until he had massaged every last tremor of pleasure out of Fin’s body. “Feel better? I think you needed that.”

“Mm, yeah... You...?” Fin asked, as he started to regain his sense of space and himself. He realized that as good as he felt right now, John could no doubt use similar relief. He’d been so zoned out on what John had been doing to him that he hadn’t even thought—or had the brain power—to do the same in return.

“I wouldn’t mind some reciprocal attention if you’re up for it.”

“‘Up’ might not be the word. You want...um...bedroom? Might be more comfortable...” Fin suggested. And he still needed a few minutes to compose himself after what just happened.

“Sure, as long as you don’t fall asleep. Let me clean up first.”

“’kay.”

John gave Fin one more kiss and helped him up to his feet, guiding him in the direction of the bedroom after flicking off the television and the lights. Fin felt momentarily guilty that here he had company (specifically soon-to-be-in-his- _bed_ -company), and he hadn’t bothered to fix the sheets in the morning. But, at least that made it easy to slide under the covers after stripping off his clothes. And _damn_ , it felt good to stretch out and enjoy the way he felt right now, all relaxed and de-stressed. His orgasm had seemed to clear some of the booze-induced wooziness out of his head, and he knew he should drink some water. But fuck it, he didn’t want to move.

Fin heard the bathroom sink running for a minute. John entered the bedroom, his form barely visible in a shard of light from the street outside, coming through the window. Fin watched as he undid his jeans, shimmying them down off his slender hips before approaching the bed.

“Underwear, too,” Fin said.

“Now you’re bossing me around?”

“Yeah. So shut up and get your bony ass in bed.”

“Never thought I’d live to hear you say that.”

Fin chuckled as John did as he was told. He watched every movement but in the darkness he couldn't see much. And that was fine; he was still nervous about this, didn't want to think too much about it. John then slid under the covers next to Fin. He lay there, close, on his side and facing Fin, but giving Fin the opportunity to make the first move, to make sure he was comfortable with this situation. Fin reached out, under the covers, finding John’s shoulder, running his hand down over his back. Touching, doing nothing but caressing skin for a while, taking in more of the feel of this other body. His hand glided lower, over the gentle curve of John's ass, and he heard him sigh.

“Like that?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Don’t you fall asleep on me before I’m done with you,” Fin now warned John. He was only starting to get comfortable enough to know what he wanted to do next.

“Keep that up and I might...”

Fin shifted close enough that with a gentle urging he could pull John to him and meet his lips for another kiss.

Fin’s hand slid over the front of John’s thigh, upward until he brushed over his balls, then along the swollen length of his penis. John let out moan at that touch which nearly made Fin hard again. He knew how good it had felt to be intimately touched, after so long, and he could tell John was having the same response. As he had said, Fin mused, there wasn’t anything wrong with just having fun with someone else. With a friend you could trust. Someone who deserved a night of fun as much as you did.

Fin started caressing John’s cock, fondling it slowly so he could get a feel for it. He was used to the girth and length of his own, so it did feel somewhat novel doing this to another man. Had to admit he was pretty impressed with what he felt in his hand, too, firm and substantial.

“Packing some real heat, here.”

“Not a gun in my pocket...definitely happy to see you.”

“I can tell. Roll on your...yeah, that’s good,” Fin said, as John anticipated his instructions and rolled onto his back, so Fin could slide up against him...get a better grip for more intense attentions.

As much as John had talked through giving Fin a hand-job, now he was quiet save for his heavy breaths, wordless sighs and grunts of pleasure. Fin concentrated all his efforts into getting John off, wanting to feel and hear him come. The darkness of the bedroom made him feel more comfortable embracing what was going on, not overthinking it, not worrying about it. He pressed his lips against John’s neck, nuzzling, tasting the salty sweat on his skin as he kept up his rapid stroking.

“Fin...” John said, as if in anticipation, warning. Fin only increased the intensity of his motions, and on a whim brushed his teeth against John’s ear, took a small nibble there…

That did the trick. John gasped out a cry of surprise and bucked up into Fin’s hand, which suddenly was wet and sticky, hot with the rewards for his efforts. Fin let go after several slower, gentler strokes to grab some tissues out of the box on the nightstand, offering several to John while he cleaned his own hand.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” Fin yawned and stretched. He was partly aroused again, being close to John in the nude, but also dead tired. And more than a little confused by what he was feeling, unsure what he should do next, cuddle up or...

John solved his dilemma by rolling over and falling in close against Fin’s side, snuggling gently but not tightly. His arm across Fin’s chest felt warm, comforting. Fin placed one hand on that arm to hold it there. “Gonna fall asleep...” he muttered.

“Me too. I wish...”

“What’s that?”

John sighed. “I wish in the morning I wasn’t going to end up back at my own apartment. Alone. Just me and Marmalade. It’d be a welcome surprise to wake up and still be here together. Wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, it would,” Fin agreed. If he believed in prayer, he would pray for that so hard, right now. To wake up in the morning and not find himself alone. If he had that—if _they_ had that—then he wouldn’t care if it were Friday again in the morning. It could be Friday for months on end as long as he could wake up and feel the happiness he did right now, safe and content. To be in the embrace of a friend, someone he could trust like this, like maybe he hadn’t trusted anyone else in his lifetime.

“John...?” he started, words on the tip of his tongue, if only he could find them.

But John was already asleep, it seemed, for he gave no answer, and in a moment Fin forgot what he meant to say anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope the wait for some actual smuttiness was worth it! And this is only the beginning... *wink*
> 
> Next chapter will be up this coming weekend. As always thanks for reading & comments always loved & appreciated!


	11. Fuck Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Fin wake up to at least one welcome change on this next same-day...and they set about celebrating it to an exhausting degree.

**Day 11**

6 a.m. and the alarm was blaring again. Fin woke up with a start, realizing he hadn’t even smashed the alarm clock last night. Well, he’d been a little too busy for that. He looked to see if John was still in his bed or if he had been spirited away in the middle of the night.

John was still there, chocolate brown eyes staring back at him. It was so natural to lean in and claim a kiss, until John made a noise of discontent.

Fin’s heart fell. Had John changed his mind? He’d miss it—John’s _hands_ were skilled, he had been interested to explore what else they could do together. But he pulled back and opened his mouth to say something about understanding.

John beat him to the punch. “As much as I like the thought, let’s pick it up _after_ we’ve both brushed our teeth. I never feel sexy with morning breath.”

“Hang on, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere,” Fin said.

A thought struck John. “Marmalade!” he said, leaping up. “I hope she’s still here, too!”

Fin lay back and enjoyed the sight. John was still completely naked, and Fin watched in growing interest as John headed out of the room, looking for his kitten. Yeah, he definitely had no regrets sober—in fact, John needed to get his (really, quite good-looking) ass back into bed ASAP so that Fin could ravish John again. He still didn’t feel ready for anything…major, but there was plenty they could do.

He got up and started looking for that spare toothbrush. Hopefully Munchkin _was_ in the apartment; he barely wanted to wait for them to complete their morning routines, never mind go all the way over to John’s apartment.

John came back, Munchkin nestled in his arms. “Found her,” John said happily, pressing a kiss to her head. “She really is my miracle time-loop baby girl, aren’t you, Marmalade?”

Fin scratched Munchkin’s head. “There’s Munchkin,” he cooed.

John shot him a dirty look, and Fin handed him the toothbrush quickly before John decided sex was off the table.

They completed their morning routines quickly, Fin having dug up a disposable razor for John, too. They skipped their showers, eager to have skin on skin again, to explore each other’s bodies.

Fin wrapped his arms around John, hugging him from behind. He pressed his hardening dick into John’s ass and said, “I think Batman and Munchk—Marmalade are gonna be all right without us for a bit. You wanna have some fun?”

“Let me just feed Marmalade first, and then just you try to stop me,” John said, pushing his ass back against Fin’s cock. “You bet I want to have that kind of fun again.”

“Yeah, I should feed Batman, too,” Fin said, letting go of John reluctantly. “And I suppose we should call out of work while we’re at it. All I wanna do today is see how many times I can make you come.”

Hell. John shivered in anticipation. Fin had missed his calling—yeah, he was a great cop, but he would’ve made a fantastic phone sex operator.

“You’ll get zero objection from me,” John said. “Pets first, and quick.”

They fed their respective pets quickly and laid out toys for them, then Fin took John’s hand and led him to the bedroom. John headed for the bed, but Fin laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “I wanna look for a moment,” he said.

Last night had been about a desperate need for release, neither of them thinking about what they were doing, just seeing what felt good, bringing each other off. Today, Fin wanted to look, to take in the sight of his new lover.

He looked his fill, John staring at him in interest too. He supposed he should feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but he was busy taking in the sight of John. John was even skinnier than Fin had thought, but surprisingly muscled—lean muscle on his frame, the kind one gets from years of work. He looked at John’s arms for several moments, mesmerized by those biceps. God, those lean muscles were getting to him.

He looked lower, skating over John’s chest, mildly surprised that he couldn’t actually count John’s ribs and settled on John’s cock. It was hard, rising. It was long, like everything else about John, but thick, and Fin wanted to touch it again. He stepped in close.

John had been looking interestedly too. Fin had solid muscle on him, but he wasn’t bony like John. Soft and pleasant, John thought to himself, remembering the feel of Fin under his hands last night, soft but with that hard layer of muscle underneath, a delicious combination.

He wanted to touch again, run his hands along Fin’s arms, his chest, down to his cock, but he wanted to look, too, to memorize the sight of Fin. His gaze went downward to Fin’s cock. Mmm, big and thick, and he definitely was looking forward to playing with _that_ again.

Fin was pulling him in for a kiss, and John went eagerly, wanting to taste Fin again, much happier now that neither of them had morning breath. Oh, there was Fin’s tongue, licking at his lips, and John parted them eagerly. He groaned softly at the feel of Fin’s tongue against his and pulled Fin in close, feeling Fin’s erection against his thigh. He wanted to touch it again, bring Fin off like he had the previous-same night, but he didn’t want to stop kissing Fin for anything.

The kisses were more intense, more focused, without the haze of alcohol, and John felt like he was drowning in them. He sucked lightly at Fin’s bottom lip and Fin moaned in his mouth. John nearly came from that alone. He ran a hand down Fin’s chest and grasped his dick. Mmm. It felt as good in his hand now as it had the previous-same night.

Fin broke the kiss—to a protest from John—and pulled away from his touch. He stretched out on the bed and arched an eyebrow invitingly. “Mmm, your hand feels amazin’,” Fin murmured. “Wonder what else you can do.”

John waggled his eyebrows at Fin. “Oh, I’m gonna blow your mind—and you,” he purred. He had wanted to taste Fin, and there was Fin, spread out on the bed, ready and waiting.

Fin gasped, his cock twitching. God, that mouth was sinful enough when speaking and kissing, how would it feel wrapped around him?

“Oh, God, _please_ ,” he moaned.

John pounced—there was no other word for it—giving him a demanding, hungry kiss. Fin arched up into it, pressing his hard dick into John’s hip. John moved lower, sucking on Fin’s neck. “My dick is down there,” Fin panted, feeling the sucking going straight to his dick. Oh God, that was just his _neck_ , he didn’t think survive John’s mouth on his _dick_.

“Mhm,” John moaned into his neck. He picked up his head and said cheekily, “Funnily, I’m familiar with male anatomy.”

“In that case, make yourself familiar with mine,” Fin said, pushing on John’s head.

John laughed and led himself be pushed—he _was_ eager to suck Fin off. Mmm, he wanted to see how that dick would feel in his mouth (he wanted to know how that dick would feel fucking him, but he didn’t think Fin was ready for _that_ yet).

He settled in between Fin’s legs and gave his dick a considering look. It looked even better from this angle.

“You gonna stare all day?” Fin asked impatiently, turned on like crazy by the sight of John between his legs.

“Might just,” John said cheerfully. “After all, there’s always the next-same day.”

Fin groaned in frustration, and John finally took pity on him, licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock.

“Ohhhhh…” Fin breathed. “Fuck,” he added in a whisper.

“Mmm,” John answered, licking at the tip, catching a drop of precome. “You taste good. You gonna come in my mouth, let me have a proper taste?”

Fin nearly came, but managed to control himself and say, “If you stop fuckin’ teasin’ me, John!”

John grinned at him and licked another long stripe, testing if Fin liked that. Fin groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow. If he looked he was gonna come embarrassingly fast.

John sucked lightly on the head, trying to get another taste of Fin. He wanted, desperately, to have Fin come in his mouth, to taste Fin. He contented himself with precome for now. He was hard, too, but he ignored that—he’d pay attention to himself later, although if he kept listening to Fin’s moans and groans of pleasure, he was gonna come, just knowing he was the cause.

Fin tangled his hands in John’s hair, trying not to guide him, but needing to hang onto something. He still didn’t look—he knew if he saw John’s silver strands between his fingers, he’d come down John’s throat immediately. He ran a hand through John’s hair, feeling the silky strands between his fingers. It distracted him, briefly, from the sucking around his dick.

Oh hell. John’s tongue had joined the fray as John sucked, tracing the underside of his dick. John lowered his head in bobs along Fin’s dick, deep-throating him. Fin screamed and John smiled around his mouthful. He had hoped he’d be able to make Fin scream.

“John,” Fin gasped, feeling John’s throat ripple around his dick as John swallowed. “Oh, God, John, I’m gonna come.”

John pulled off until only the head was in his mouth and sucked hard, squeezing the rest of Fin’s cock with his hand.

Fin groaned and arched off the bed, coming in John’s mouth. John moaned happily around Fin’s dick, and Fin screamed again as the vibrations milked a bit more come out of him.

John swallowed, savoring the taste, and let go of Fin’s dick. He pressed a kiss to the tip. “You taste... oh, so yummy,” John said smokily, licking his lips. A shudder ran through Fin.

“Wanna taste?” John asked, hovering over Fin. Fin yanked down for a kiss, sloppy and satisfied. Fin flipped them over and looked down at John. “How ’bout I return the favor?” he purred in John’s ear.

John swallowed hard—God he wanted that mouth around him—but said, “Only if you’re ready for that. It’s okay if you’re not—I won’t complain.”

“Mm, you seemed to be havin’ so much fun, I wanna give it a go myself,” Fin said. He kissed John again, then slithered down his body. “’Course, I ain’t gonna have your skill.”

“Fin, right now, you could paw at me like a fucking adolescent and I’d come in about a minute flat,” John gasped. “Suck me, stroke me, I don’t care what or how well, just fucking make me come!”

Fin grinned at him and wrapped a hand around John’s dick. Oh hell. It felt good. Mmm, he could get used to this, he thought, stroking it a couple times. John shuddered and a drop of precome welled at the tip.

Fin bent down and licked it off curiously. Not bad. He could get used to this too, he thought, licking again, painfully aware he’d never done this before—but John was certainly not complaining. Hell, John was muttering some choice curse words, completely muffled. Fin looked up to see John biting his fist, trying to control himself, and a bolt of lust shot through Fin.

Fin licked around the head, testing to see if John liked that. He got more muffled swears, so he figured yes and did it again. John’s hips were making aborted movements, John obviously trying to keep himself from thrusting into Fin’s mouth.

Fin opened his mouth and sucked on John’s cock, taking in as much as he could. He couldn’t deep-throat, but he made up for it by stroking the rest of John’s dick and sucking on what was in his mouth. Mmm. He kept getting bursts of flavor on his tongue and he sucked harder, wanting John to come in his mouth, too.

He realized he had a free hand and… well, _he_ always enjoyed this. He cupped John’s balls. John moaned loudly, still muffled by his fist, and Fin felt and tasted the first spurt of come in his mouth. The taste was not unpleasant, definitely something he’d be happy to taste again, and he swallowed in time with John’s spurts. He let John’s dick go only once he felt it softening and crawled up the bed to press a kiss to John’s lips. “How was my first attempt at a blowjob?” he asked worriedly.

“I am not going to survive your second attempt, if you get better,” John groaned. He flopped against the bed. “Jesus, Fin. I need a nap.”

“Right there with you.”

Fin snuggled against John.

* * *

They woke up several hours later. Fin pressed against John and him. “Unless you wanna complain about my breath again,” Fin teased.

“Uh-uh,” John said. “I can still taste myself on your tongue and it’s driving me wild.”

He pressed his hardening cock against Fin’s. Fin pressed back against him and kissed him again. John groaned. “Oh hell, Fin,” he moaned. “That’s… really driving me wild.” He arched into Fin again, rubbing their cocks together.

Fin moaned. “Mmm, that feels so good,” he murmured against John’s lips. John ran his hands down Fin’s back to his ass, an area of Fin’s body he had sorely neglected until now. John moaned into Fin’s mouth. Oh, Fin’s ass felt amazing, nice and firm in his hands. He squeezed and pulled Fin in close, grinding against him.

“Oh hell,” Fin groaned. He dropped his head to John’s neck. “I wonder if you bruise.”

Before John could answer, Fin sucked hard on John’s neck. “Jesus H. Christ, Fin!” John screamed, bucking up into Fin. “Don’t you dare stop oh God right there!”

Fin bit down, curious to see if John would like that, and John started swearing in… Fin wasn’t sure what language it was. Not English, that was for sure, but he wasn’t going to stop just for a language lesson, especially since it was turning him on like crazy. No one had ever spoken a different language in bed before, and it was going straight to his dick.

Fin finally stopped sucking on John’s neck to a vocal protest from John, and pressed sucking kisses up John’s neck to his ear. He licked along the shell, fairly sure that John’s ears were sensitive, and John rewarded him with a moaned swear. In English, though. Fin sucked on the lobe, still grinding against John, wondering if he could get John to lapse into another language again. John was swearing fluently, but it was all in English again, so Fin pressed harder into John and bit gently on the shell of John’s ear. _That_ got him a different language _and_ John coming against his dick.

The slippery feel against his cock felt phenomenal. He was gonna come too, and John leaned in and said in his ear, “You’re close, I can feel it. Come, Fin, come for me, come on me, come on me and make me sticky and dirty, I want your come on me, hon, come on, don’t you want to see it?”

Fin groaned and came. He slumped against John, feeling their come squish between their bodies, and suddenly John flipped them over.

John slithered down his body, and Fin said sleepily, “As great as your blowjobs are, I don’t think I could get hard again right now.”

“I’m not blowing you,” John said. Before Fin could ask what he _was_ doing, he felt John’s tongue on his body.

“Mmm… yummy,” John moaned.

Fin propped himself up to look. He had a good idea what John was doing, but he wanted to _see_. Yeah, John was licking the come off his body. John stuck his tongue out again and licked a long swathe through the mess on Fin’s skin, scooping up their combined come.

“Mmm,” John moaned. “I’ll never get tired of that taste.” He licked again, cleaning Fin off.

Fin twitched in interest. Amazingly, he was getting hard again, watching and feeling John lick the come off. John was making happy noises as he did, too.

John looked at Fin’s rising cock and grinned. “Thought you said you weren’t gonna get hard again,” he purred.

“Oh hell, John, I’m just startin’ to realize how much you turn me on,” Fin gasped.

John eyed Fin’s hard dick and said, “Guess I better do something about this. Wanna touch it again. Mmm, wanna feel that gorgeous dick in my hands again. You gonna let me touch it?”

“Fuck, I’m gonna beg you to touch it,” Fin gasped. “Please, John. Touch me, please, John, please.”

John wrapped his hand around Fin’s dick. “Oooh, you _are_ hard again,” he purred. “Lovely.” He stroked, running his hand along Fin’s dick, enjoying the feel of it in his hand, hot and heavy in his palm. He leaned in and sucked on Fin’s neck, remembering that Fin had enjoyed that. Fin was bucking into his hand, gasping. John licked at Fin’s neck and moved up to his ear, whispering, “Come again for me, Fin. Come on. I know you want to, I can feel how hard you are.”

He ran a hand along Fin’s dick and added a little twist at the end. He pulled Fin in for a kiss, hot and demanding, and Fin groaned in his mouth and came, John’s hand glistening with come. He looked Fin in the eye and licked it off.

“Next time,” he said huskily, “I want it straight from the source.”

Fin groaned. His cock twitched again at that, but there was no way in hell he could get hard again.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Mmm, I’ll take a bit of attention,” John said. “You taste so fucking good, I got hard again.”

“You ever think about moonlightin’ as a phone sex operator?” Fin asked breathlessly.

“Only person I’m interested in turning on right ow is right here with me.”

Fin kissed him hard. “Mmm,” he moaned into John’s mouth. “Gonna make you come again.” He wrapped his hand around John’s dick. “You just tell me what feels good, baby.”

“ _Baby”?_ The endearment had slipped off his tongue without thought and he felt a momentary embarrassment. But John didn’t seem to mind, and in fact it seemed to set him off even more. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m quite vocal.”

“I’ve noticed,” Fin said dryly. He stroked John’s cock, and John’s eyes fluttered shut. Fin stroked hard, sensing John was close, ready.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, Fin, Fin, that feels so good, keep going, please, Fin, your hand feels amazing.”

Fin sped up and licked the shell of John’s ear again. John swore and came in his hand, and Fin grabbed some tissues to wipe up.

“Mmm,” John said sleepily. “I’m ready for another nap.”

“Me too,” Fin yawned.

* * *

John woke up before Fin did. He propped his head up on his hand and watched Fin sleep for several moments. A flash of longing shot through him, one that he didn’t examine closely. He ran a hand down Fin’s body, eager to bring him off again.

It occurred to him suddenly that this might never have happened—Fin nearly transferred out of the squad a year ago. He could’ve lost his best friend (and a great fuck, but really, his _best friend_ ), just because Elliot was a complete asshole.

An idea sprang, fully formed, into his head. He was stuck in this loop—nothing he did to anyone but Fin mattered. He could finally punish Elliot without any of it biting him in the ass.

He’d think about that later, right now he wanted Fin again. He wriggled under the covers and found Fin’s dick, resting against Fin’s thigh.

John wrapped a hand around it, enjoying feeling it harden in his hand. He bent down and gave the head a lick. He wanted to taste Fin again. He swirled his tongue around the head, Fin getting fully hard from his attentions. John sucked lightly for a moment, squeezing the base, and he felt the covers get thrown aside.

“Now that is one hell of a way to wake up,” Fin said contentedly. “Guess you couldn’t wait for another taste, huh?”

John sucked in response. Fin groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” Fin groaned.

John mmm-ed around his mouthful.

“Oh shit,” Fin swore, his hips bucking forward. “Sorry, John.”

“Oh, I’ll take it as a compliment,” John answered, licking Fin’s cock again. He tongued lower, moving to lick at Fin’s balls.

“ _Jesus, John!_ ” Fin cried, shifting on the bed desperately.

John sucked on one of Fin’s balls, stroking Fin’s cock, then switched, moving to suck on Fin’s cock and cup his balls. He swirled his tongue around the head again, then took all of Fin’s dick in in one long swallow. Fin started arching off the bed and John held his hip down with his free hand, still massaging his balls.

He hummed around Fin’s dick. Fin vaguely made out, “I Feel Pretty”, but he didn’t care because he was about to come again. He pulled on John’s hair to warn him, knowing John wanted to _taste_ (God, the thought alone boosted his orgasm further) and John pulled back so that Fin’s come would land on his tongue, not go down his throat.

John moaned as Fin’s come hit his tongue. He sucked hard, milking Fin through his orgasm, determined to wring every last drop of come out of Fin.

Fin groaned and finally pushed John off. “Too much,” he panted. He looked at John, who opened his mouth. Fin moaned, lust shooting through him. John hadn’t swallowed yet, and Fin could see his come on John tongue, glistening and wet. “Oh God, John, that’s _hot_ ,” he moaned.

John waggled his eyebrows at Fin and swallowed.

“Jesus, how’d you get so fuckin’ good at this, John?” Fin asked, falling back onto the pillow. “Thought you said you only fooled around a bit a long time ago.”

“Oh, you’re gonna like this,” John said. “Watch,” he purred.

Fin propped his head up and looked at John, who cracked his back and stretched. He curled forward and licked his own dick.

 _“MOTHERFUCKER!_ ” Fin screamed.

“You like?” John asked wickedly.

“Oh hell, John, that is… that is _fuckin’ hot_. Holy _shit_.”

John wrapped a hand around his dick to hold it steady and licked again. Hell, that felt good, he knew by now exactly what he liked, and he glanced up at Fin to see how Fin was reacting.

Fin had set up properly and was stroking his dick, which was hardening fast. John grinned and purred, “I’m gonna want that come again. Can’t get enough of it.”

Fin’s dick twitched. “Oh, don’t you worry, you’re gettin’ it, baby. Keep goin’, though. I wanna watch.”

John licked again, going as low as he could, reaching the top of his fingers. He sucked, knowing his back couldn’t handle a marathon blowjob. He squeezed with his hand, coordinating the two, keeping his tongue busy.

Fin was stroking himself, watching. He had never seen anyone do this before, had always assumed that autofellatio was a myth. But hell, John was definitely sucking himself off. It was unbelievably arousing, more than he had ever thought it would be.

John started humming, “I Feel Pretty” again. His hips bucked and Fin could see John’s cock twitch.

Fin’s hand sped up. God, he wanted to come again, but he wanted to see John come first. He started talking. “You gonna come, John?” he asked, clearing his throat so he could talk. “Gonna come down your own throat? God, I wanna see that, baby. Wanna see you come in your own mouth, oh God, that’s so hot.”

John moaned and Fin watched as John’s cock twitched with his orgasm.

“Let me see,” he begged.

John took his head off his dick and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out. His come was on his tongue, and Fin groaned, his hand speeding up on his cock. “Jesus, John, you’re so dirty, I love it.”

John swallowed and looked at Fin’s cock. “You gonna give me your come again?”

Fin gasped, his hips bucking forward again. He flushed. “I wanna come on your face,” he moaned. He had always wanted to do that to someone, but never felt comfortable asking—but somehow he thought John would go for it eagerly.

“Mmm, that’s _hot_ ,” John groaned. “You gonna come on my face? Gonna make me dirty. Mmm, I want your come on my face.”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna come, God, John, I’m gonna come.”

John opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, a target for Fin, and Fin groaned, his hand flying on his cock, stroking hard, just the way he liked it. He started coming, the first spurt landing on John’s nose and dripping down to his waiting tongue. John’s tongue darted upward, catching as much as he could, then he stuck it out again for Fin to hit. The second spurt his John’s chin. His last one got John in the cheek.

“God, you look _filthy_ ,” Fin said, taking in the sight happily.

“Mmm, I bet I do,” John purred. “Bet you love it, you minx.”

“Oh God, baby, I do,” Fin said.

John scooped the come off his face with his hand and sucked it clean and he forgot all about it.

“God, John,” Fin breathed. He pulled John in for a kiss. “God, you _taste_ filthy.”

“I know you love it,” John murmured, kissing Fin again. “You got any food. After a while, your come, however delicious, isn’t enough. And we should check on Batman and Marmalade.”

* * *

They were in bed again, having taken another nap after checking on the pets and making a quick dinner of what they scrounged up from Fin’s pantry.

John nudged Fin awake. “I’m horny again. You?”

“Yeah,” Fin said, stretching. “I wanna get you off again. What do you wanna do this time?”

John fell silent for a moment, then said, “You know, been feeling and stroking and sucking that big, hard dick of yours all fucking day. I want you to fuck me with it, if you’re ready for that. Only if you’re up for it, though.”

Fin thought about it. He definitely wasn’t ready to _be_ fucked, but he felt like he was ready to fuck John. He had paid that ass quite a bit of interest lately.

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna fuck your ass. That’s a great ass, baby.”

“I’m glad it meets with your approval. Now fuck it.”

Fin got out of bed and banged around his various drawers. He found lube fairly quickly, which he tossed to John, but came up empty on condoms. “I don’t have any condoms,” he said regretfully.

“I haven’t had sex in… well, a _long_ while and I was just tested two months ago. I’m clean. You?”

“Yeah, you know it’s been a couple years. Got tested… four months ago now, I’m clean too.”

“You trust me?” John asked.

Fin _did_ , he _knew_ that even though it was just about release with them (and that really shouldn’t send a pang through him, though it did) John would never expose him to anything. “Yeah. You’ve always got my back.”

“And at some point, your backside, too,” John teased. “You gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah. Just try and stop me. Unless, of course, you wanna stop,” Fin added quickly.

“I know what you meant.” John handed Fin the lube and spread his legs. “I know you haven’t had sex with a guy before, but I assume you can figure out what to do?”

“I’m inexperienced in this one particular field, not a moron, John,” Fin said dryly, slicking a finger. He pressed it into John and swore. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

“Mhm, been a while—a _very_ long while—since I’ve done _this_ ,” John answered. “But hell, that feels good, hon, keep going.”

Fin stretched John carefully, adding a second finger when he could and seeking out John’s prostate. John swore and arched off the bed. “Jesus H. Christ, Fin, do that again right fucking now!”

“Only if you promise not to come before I even slide in you.”

“Mkay,” John said, wriggling on Fin’s fingers. “God, for someone who claims never to have done this before, you’re _fucking good_.”

God, John was so tight around his _fingers_ , he couldn’t imagine how John would feel around his _dick._ He slid a third finger in, wanting to be sure he wasn’t going to hurt John.

John was begging constantly for Fin’s dick, every word ratcheting up Fin’s arousal more. “Please, fuck me already, Fin, I wanna feel your cock in me, fuck me, fuck me please, I want your dick in me, ever since I saw your dick I wondered how it would feel inside me, I need to know, I need to be fucked, fuck me with that big, gorgeous, hard cock, c’mon Fin, I’m not gonna break, fuck me, fuck meeee,” he howled as Fin pulled his fingers out and slicked his cock.

Fin slid in slowly, watching John’s face carefully for any sign of pain, but John was pulling at him impatiently, trying to get him all the way in. Fin was finally in and he groaned—God, John was fucking _tight_ around him. Fin swore he saw stars. He took several deep breaths to control himself and not embarrass himself by coming like a fucking teenager.

He pulled out and thrust back in, both of them moaning with how good it felt. John was like a fucking vise around him and even with five orgasms already today, this was not going to be a long fuck. He angled to hit John’s prostate and John fairly screamed. “God, Fin, right there, right fucking there, OH God, fuck me hard, I love a good hard fuck!”

Fin was of the same mind; John was way too tight around him for him to take it slow, and he thrust fast into John. He wrapped a hand around John’s cock and stroked, listening to the string of dirty talk spilling out of John’s mouth. “Oh God, right there, oh you’re so good, so big, so amazing, keep fucking me, please Fin, I need to come, make me come, I know you’re close too, you gonna come in me? Come in me, Fin, make me come, Fin please,” he said at a fever pitch as Fin stroked and fucked him.

Fin added a twist to the end and bent down to suck hard on John’s neck. John’s neck was already bruising from his earlier hickeys, and lust shot through Fin, bringing him closer.

John screamed incoherently and came, tightening around Fin. Holy shit. There was absolutely no way he could hang on any longer, and he felt his orgasm starting in his spine, pooling in his balls, shooting out through his dick.

John pulled him down for a kiss. “Mmm, today was just… wow,” John murmured.

“I may never recover,” Fin said. “You think this much sex overloaded the loop?”

“If not, we can always try again tomorrow,” John said cheerfully.

“Baby, I don’t think I could do this again,” Fin said, snuggling up against John. “My dick’s gonna be sore tomorrow—or would be, if tomorrow ever came.” He slung an arm over John and pulled him close. “I’m now gonna sleep the sleep of the well-fucked.”

John yawned. “Yeah, me too. God, you fuck like an animal, I love it. I want that dick again, I warn you now.”

“Oh, I’m happy to oblige...once I recover from today.”


	12. Searching For Clues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Fin manage to get out of bed long enough to go in to work this same-day, if just to investigate if any of their co-workers might be caught in the loop as well. Later that evening, Fin has a sensual surprise for his new lover as they continue to explore each other's desires.

 

**Day 12**

_Five-fifty-eight._

That was the exact time John had awoken the morning before, on Day Eleven. For the first time since this same-day cycle had begun, he’d beaten the alarm by a few minutes.

Oh-five-five-eight. He’d squinted to make out the bright red digital numbers on Fin’s alarm clock. That had been when he’d realized he wasn’t in his own bed: seeing the alarm that wasn’t his own, breathing in the different scent of this bedroom, these sheets and pillows. Upon rolling over, he’d found Fin there, sleeping beside him. He’d wondered, then, if he wasn’t in some kind of dream, one that would vanish as soon as the alarm chimed, if it did, or if they’d somehow managed to break the loop this cycle by—

—and then the alarm had sounded, after all. The one neither of them had set the previous night, so here it was, still Friday, and yet here _he_ was, in Fin’s bed.

It had been the best thing that had happened to him since this entire loop had begun. Since well before then, if he were truthful with himself.

So they'd broken _some_ part of the loop, not by talking, or solving a case, or owning up to the ghosts of their respective pasts. Drunken kisses and awkward hand jobs had rewarded him with his first night not completely reset in his own apartment, and he couldn’t have been happier.

So when Fin had awoken and expressed interest in continuing where the night before had ended, John had been more than willing to oblige. Perhaps fucking their way to physical and mental oblivion would get them out of this, he’d thought.

If not, if would be one hell of a way to go down trying.

And now here it was: five-fifty-eight again, a second morning in a row. Still in Fin’s bed, although this morning he had beaten the alarm by even a few more minutes— _if_ that alarm would sound. He couldn’t squint enough to make out if it was armed and he was too comfortable to try. Comfortable, and, well, his body was telling him he’d better take it easy today after last same-day’s gymnast-worthy workout. He hadn’t thought he still had it in him, not at his age and not after all this time.

But something about Fin had drawn it out of him, made him want to be completely shameless and open. It might have been the pure delight of watching his friend discover a side of his sexuality he’d never let himself explore before—and seeing how far he could push Fin into enjoying and reveling in it with him. Maybe it was also their friendship that allowed him to be so free, knowing that Fin wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t find him disgusting or perverted for his desires.

The buzzing of the alarm snapped John out of his thoughts. He watched with amusement as Fin winced, groaned, and flopped an arm around trying to silence the offending electronic device. John did it for him, and then nuzzled in close to tease Fin’s shoulder with nibbles and kisses. “Wake-up, sleepy head,” John urged.

“Mmmph. You’re still here.”

“That any way to greet your good partner? Your Energizer Bunny of a fuck buddy?”

Fin responded by roughly grabbing hold of John and rolling him over, pinning him to the bed. John chuckled, though his breath caught for a moment to see Fin looking down at him with that gentle, warm smile of his. “Fuck buddy? More like fucking dick monster the way you went at it yesterday.”

“Oh, as if that was all _my_ doing?”

“Maybe not, but shit...that was pretty hardcore.”

“What can I say. I’m enthusiastic when it comes to pleasures of the flesh. Especially flesh as delightful as yours.”

Fin placed a kiss on John’s forehead, then sat back, the morning sun illuminating his nude form in a most tempting fashion. “Yeah well...after yesterday’s ‘enthusiasm’ I ain’t sure I’m gonna be able to get it up for another _week_ of same-days. I think you broke me.”

“Really. Want me to put that to the test?” John reached down but Fin batted his hand away playfully.

“Later, promise. What about we actually get out of bed and do our jobs for a change today?”

“You mean the same paperwork we’ve done how many times already?”

“You mentioned checking out the 16th better for any clues to how we got stuck,” Fin said. “Make sure there isn’t anyone else stuck. We can cruise through that paperwork in an hour or two, tops, at this point. Give us plenty of time to look into other things...”

“Okay, fair enough. Guess we better haul ass,” John said. Fin moved to slip out of bed and John stopped him, grabbing his hand. “Hey, Fin?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re cool, right?” He had to be certain, and Fin wasn’t always the easiest man to read.

“’Course we are. Like you said...ain’t no reason why friends can’t help each other out, have some fun. Kinda easier to enjoy it when you’re not worrying about other shit, all that relationship drama and bullshit, you know?”

“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”

“C’mon, we’d better check on the little ones.”

John followed Fin out of the bedroom to hunt down Marmalade, who had decided she approved of Fin’s sofa even more so than her own cat bed. He reached down to scratch her sleepy cat head and make lovey-talk to his miracle time-loop princess. Meanwhile Fin let out a series of curses filthy enough to scare a sailor.

“What’s the prob—oh.” John stopped when he saw what had Fin so mad. Batman had decided to use Fin’s doormat to take a piss and leave a deposit right by the front door. Batman looked up at them both and barked innocently, then whined.

“Welcome to the joys of pet parenting, my friend,” John said, patting Fin on the shoulder. “At least Marmalade knows how to use a litter box.”

“Guess we needed to take him for more than that one quick walk after dinner yesterday, huh? Shit, I’m sorry, buddy. My fault.”

“Lesson learned, and don’t worry, he’ll forgive you. But I’d suggest picking up some puppy pads today. Young ones can take a while to train.”

“Gonna hate leaving him here all day alone. Feel bad enough I didn’t take care of him right yesterday.”

“So we’ll take him with us into work!” John enthused.

“You think?”

“Explain you only adopted him today and he needs to bond with you. Marmalade will do okay on her own until later, but puppies tend to need more attention.”

Fin shrugged and agreed, “All right, why not.”

John fed and put out fresh water for Marmalade and Batman while Fin got their coffee started. Scooping dry food out of Batman’s bag, John remembered the list he’d started writing on a bag scrap the other day. He went to retrieve his wallet from his pants to look for it. Sure enough, the list was still there, as he’d written it up two same-days ago. “Fin, it worked!”

“What worked?”

John brought the list over to show him in the kitchen. “Using the litter bag to write notes to ourselves. I’ll bring the bag I emptied out for her box here to the 16th, so we can write up any notes about today.”

“That’s gonna look real inconspicuous.”

“So yesterday was day eleven. Uh...call it ‘Fuck Day’?” John thought of how best to write it down.

“’Bout the only way I can think to describe it. You wanna grab the shower first? Gonna be late if we don’t get moving soon and no offense, babe, but you stink like a polecat.”

“The olfactory offense is mutual, my dear,” John answered, getting a good whiff of Fin as he moved past him to fill a coffee mug. “At least no one will notice I’m wearing the same clothes several days in a row, though I’m going to have to call it ‘casual Friday’.” If he was going to be spending more nights over here he would have to pick up some clean clothes from his place first...if they would stay in place, that was. But given how Fin’s leather jacket had remained behind at his apartment one night, and his own sweater and jeans here for two nights now, he thought it worth a try. “We _could_ save time by showering together,” John suggested, waggling his eyebrows at Fin, daring him not to jump at the offer.

“Save time or waste more time?”

“That depends on if you can keep your hands to yourself.”

“Get the water running. I’ll be in right behind you.”

* * *

Fin heard a squawk a minute later, as John entered the bathroom and got the shower running. Fin went to check on him and found John looking over the bruises on his neck and one very purple one on his right ear. Fin had noticed them upon waking—how could he not? But he had decided not to say anything until John had the surprise of discovering them himself.

Fin snickered while John complained, “Go on and laugh. Like it’s not going to be entirely obvious what I was up to at work today.”

“What’s it matter if ain’t no one gonna remember it tomorrow? Hell, couple same-days ago I showed up in the office in a Batman costume. A couple hickeys are nothin’ compared to that.” Besides, Fin thought the bruises looked kind of hot on John’s pale skin. He wouldn’t mind adding some fresh ones to different places later today.

“True. Surprised they didn’t heal overnight, though. I wonder what that means.”

“Things we do to each other don’t reset?” Fin suggested.

“Could be.” John brushed his teeth as the shower water heated up. He then stepped under the spray to adjust the temperature while Fin took his turn at the sink as well. He found it amusing how John could get off on licking and swapping come yet be so fussy about morning breath. But everyone had their quirks—and John was nothing if not one walking, talking, extremely fuckable bag of quirks.

With a freshened mouth, Fin finally went for a kiss as soon as he was under the hot stream of the shower. He needed another taste of John and those wicked lips of his, that mouth he’d learned last same-day could do a hell of a lot of things to him. Filthy, wonderful things that had made him more crazy with need than he could remember ever feeling before. But he still didn’t want to think too much about that.

Instead he wanted to think about how nice it felt to stand naked against John in the shower, the hot water running over both their bodies. Arousal began stirring and reawakening within him once again, even though he’d been certain he couldn’t get it up.

John picked up Fin’s shower gel, pouring a generous amount in one hand. He spread the soap all over Fin’s chest and shoulders, working up a good lather. Fin took the bottle and squeezed some in his own hands, to work over John’s upper back. He enjoyed how he felt all slicked up, solid and lean and wet. John closed his eyes and murmured approval as Fin let a hand slide down over his ass, rubbing and massaging. He turned around in the shower to give Fin a better angle to work it over. John's murmur turned into a moan as Fin slipped a slick finger between those ass cheeks to find his tight entrance once again.

John pressed into Fin in response. _Fuck_. He _was_ hard again. How could he resist when he remembered how incredible it had felt to fuck John’s ass last night? He wanted it again, wanted more than his finger up there. But, maybe now wasn’t the best time for that. John seemed to have his own ideas, anyway, turning around and going for another wet kiss, then going for the shower gel once more. Hand all slick he reached down for Fin’s balls, lathering them up, massaging them clean and stroking the base of his cock, all while fucking Fin’s mouth with his tongue.

Oh, Fin was hard. Hard as iron and loving how John could take both their dicks in hand, squeezing and rubbing them together. The shower gel made them slide together so easy, so smooth, silk over steel. The smoothness of that hand versus the roughness of John’s stubble scratching his face...fuck, everything about being with John was a contrast of extremes—intense, wonderful extremes.

“Come on and come for me, Fin. Need it...one good one for this morning, then tonight I’ll let you fuck my ass again,” John promised. “You liked that didn’t you? I loved having your cock in me. Maybe I’ll give you a taste of what it’s like later…or show you what else I like fucking and licking with my tongue.”

“Fuck, John...” _Fuck_ , it was his _words_ that brought Fin over the edge. It was as if John could make him come on demand by talking dirty to him, he had such a voice for it. Fin shuddered as the orgasm pulsed right through him, one he hadn’t thought he was capable of, but there it came and so did he. John kept stroking him, stroking them both with increasing fervor until he too shuddered and shifted unsteadily against Fin, wobbling a bit to stay on his feet in the narrow shower stall.

“So much for cleaning up,” Fin chuckled.

“And getting in to work on time. Mmm, that is, if you really _want_ to bother with work today.”

“Only ’cause you’re gonna kill me otherwise.” Fin went for another kiss, soft and lazy, then pushed John away and said, “C’mon, let’s finish up in here and get movin’.”

* * *

John’s car had apparently relocated itself back to Hudson Heights some time between Prospect Park Day and Fuck Day, which was no great surprise. So they took Fin’s car in to work, although John offered to drive. Fin didn’t object; he wanted to keep his hands on Batman during the ride and make sure he was a good boy in the car. His thoughts were also still distracted enough by John and the past same-day’s events that he wasn’t sure he would be the best at paying attention to traffic. John seemed much more calm and collected. In fact he was even humming to himself... _shit_ , he was humming “I Feel Pretty” again. Of course. Surely he was doing it to torture Fin.

“Stop that,” Fin finally said, shifting in the passenger seat to try to get more comfortable. Batman looked up at him an licked his face.

“Stop what?”

“Humming that song.”

“I didn’t even realize I was humming.”

“Yeah, right.” The tiny hint of a smile twisting the corner of John’s mouth confirmed to Fin he was full of shit. “So what’s your plan for today, anyway?”

“Simple process of elimination,” John explained. “We’ll knock out the paperwork and meanwhile try to make sure no one else we know at work is also experiencing this loop.”

“How we gonna do that?”

“You’ll see. Easy enough to drop a few hints, here and there, that would only get a reaction from someone who would also be experiencing the phenomena. Reference things that have happened that only someone in the loop would remember.”

“Hmm. We can eliminate Melinda, since I had her run all those tests on me one day and hinted enough that she would have said something.”

“Ditto on Huang,” John agreed.

Fin scratched at Batman’s ears as they made their way across the Manhattan Bridge, thinking. “Yo, what about your crazy ex, Gwen? Sometimes she shows up, sometimes she doesn’t...you don’t think...”

John shook his head. “No. She’s crazy, but she’s not stuck in the loop. I actually _told_ her exactly what I was going through and while she believed me, she didn’t say anything about experiencing the same thing herself.”

“Oh, okay. _That’s_ good news at least.”

“Yeah. But we should also start a list of things that have fluctuated in the workplace daily, to see if there’s a puzzle there to solve. Even if it feels like grasping at straws...don’t know what else we’ve got left to grasp. Well, except for each other’s...”

“Not at work, John.”

“Party pooper.”

* * *

Batman got plenty of attention and smiles from the moment Fin and John walked him in through the precinct doors. John loved all animals—Marmalade had even won him over to cats, at long last, as it was clear not all feline furballs were demonic. But even he had to say there was something special about this little guy. There didn’t seem to be anyone immune to his puppy charms.

Well, except _one_ person and John could give two shits what _he_ thought.

“You two are late—what the hell is that?” Elliot demanded as they passed by the detective’s desk.

“It’s a dog,” John replied in a sharp tone. “ _Canis lupus familiaris_ , I assume you would be familiar with the common domestic canine.”

“I know it’s a _dog_ , John. But what the hell is he doing here?!”

“Hey, sweetie!” Olivia’s reaction was much more amenable. She crouched down in front of the eager puppy, laughing as he tried to jump into her arms and give her eager puppy kisses and sniffs.

“This is Batman,” Fin introduced him. “I adopted him this morning.”

“Hence our lateness,” John added as a quick addendum, as he looked to see if even the mention of “Batman” struck any note of familiarity with Benson or Stabler. “Fin asked for my help picking out a suitable rescue at the shelter.”

“He’s adorable,” Olivia gushed.

“He better not take a leak on my desk,” Elliot said, heading over to the coffee station. John filed a mental note with himself to encourage Batman to do precisely that.

“It’s wonderful you decided to get a pet, Fin. And from the shelter, too,” Olivia said.

“If I could, I’d go to every shelter in Manhattan and rescue as many animals as possible. Bring them all here to the 16th; I bet it would do wonders for team morale,” John said. Again there was no reaction from Olivia except her smiling and rolling her eyes at him. So he would cross Benson and Stabler off his list, as they definitely had no recollection of that other same-day’s escapades. But while he was near their desks and he had Olivia distracted, and while Elliot was making his coffee, John snatched Elliot’s cell phone off his desk and slipped it in his own jacket pocket. He powered it off before anyone was the wiser.

Yeah, he was going to start having harmless fun at Stabler’s expense, while he could get away with it. The man had nearly cost him his partner last year. A few days of harmless, consequence-less fun at his expense was not amiss.

“You two.” Cragen came out of his office, although Batman’s presence disrupted his usual next line. “Is that a special victim I need to know about?”

“In a manner of speaking,” John replied.

“My new dog, Captain,” Fin explained. “I didn’t want to leave him at home all day so soon after I just got him.”

“Be glad Fin didn’t decide to adopt a foul-mouthed parrot,” John put in, testing the captain for any recollection.

Cragen looked at him as he would any other instance John made a random non-sequitor, sighed and said, “Well fortunately it looks like there’s only paperwork for you two today. Especially fortunate as you look rough, John. Do I want to know what you were up to last night?”

“Probably not, Captain. And we’ll get right to it.” John pulled up the collar of his sweater, not that it was doing that great of a job covering up the marks Fin had left all over his neck. He went to his desk, pulled out a fresh scrap of litter bag paper, and before anything else wrote down and crossed off six names:

 ~~Elliot~~  
~~Olivia~~  
~~Don~~  
~~Gwen~~  
~~Melinda~~  
~~George~~

He then added Amy’s name to the list, since he had messaged with her about his situation as well. That didn’t leave many in their immediate circle, but there were others here at the job to eliminate next.

“Anyone seen my phone?” Elliot called out.

John started humming to himself as he went for the first case file. Fin glowered at him. John smiled and winked in return.

* * *

They had the day’s paperwork backlog done by noon—although as far as the captain was concerned they would keep working on it all day. But it did mean they could enjoy a leisurely lunch break and take Batman for a walk, grabbing some hot dogs along the way.

“So has _anyone_ you talked to shown any signs of bein’ in this loop, too?” Fin asked John as they strolled along 7th Avenue.

“No, no one. I went through all the usual suspects, and most of the secretaries, uniforms and other detectives we see on a regular basis. After the menagerie incident the other same day, you’d think someone would remember _that_ if they saw Batman.”

“Or just mentioned the name ‘Batman’ after me in that costume.”

“You made a memorable impression on _me_ , if it counts for anything.”

“Same with you in a Catwoman costume, damn.”

John grinned. “I admit, that was rather more...stimulating than I imagined it would be.”

“Well, we ever get out of this day, we can do it again on Halloween to celebrate.”

John seemed pleased at that idea. “Mmm. You’ve got a deal.”

“So I gotta ask, man. How the fuck did you learn that trick you did yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“You know...doin’ yourself.”

“You liked?”

“Fuck.” Fin shifted while Batman paused to give a street lamp a good sniff.

“One of those early dalliances from my younger days was with a yoga instructor. Really learned how to limber up, if you catch my drift.”

“I’ll say.”

“Mm, but don’t expect a repeat performance _too_ soon.” John winced as he arched his back. “I may need to see my chiropractor first. My spine needs a reset it didn’t get this morning.”

Fin said nothing. John had given him another idea for later on tonight, anyway.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed in reasonable peace and quiet at the 16th. John continued nosing around to confirm no one else at the office seemed stuck in a similar loop. Fin, meanwhile, worked on a separate list (on litter paper, of course), tracking minute observances of the day. He tried to list the things that always seemed to repeat versus the things that sometimes changed, were different. Who always seemed to dress the same, for instance, and who occasionally wore a different outfit. Did Olivia and Elliot eat lunch at their desks or go out. Did Gwen show up or not (today she didn’t, thank God.)

He didn’t know what any of it did or could mean, but detective work often was like that: write down anything and everything that could mean something or make a difference, and then look for patterns and clues where there didn’t seem to be any. Next he might try to compare those differences to their list of days, see if there were any correlations...

“Seriously, _has anyone seen my phone?!”_ Elliot shouted, pulling Fin out of his thoughts.

“When did _you_ last see it?” Fin demanded, his patience growing thin. When Elliot got annoyed over something minor and stupid he could be as whiny as a petulant, spoiled child. “Maybe you left it at home.”

“No, I did not leave it at home, Fin. It was _on my desk_. I called Kathy and she called me a bunch of times about this stupid shower for her sister this weekend, and now it’s gone.”

“Shouldn’t leave your personal devices out in the open,” John piped up. “Any random person walking through here could have pocketed it.”

“Great, just great.” Elliot took a sip of his coffee, swallowed, and then spit it out all over his desk—and onto Olivia’s.

“Hey!” she shouted.

“Who the _fuck_ put salt in the sugar shaker?!”

John took a sip of his own afternoon coffee. “Mine’s fine, Elliot. Maybe you were distracted bitching over your phone.”

“Son of a bitch...” He stormed off on a hunt for paper towels.

“Somebody pissed in _his_ cornflakes,” Fin muttered under his breath to John.

“Hmm, not a bad idea. But for today I’ll stick with pocketing his phone.”

Fin looked up and over at John. _You?_ he mouthed, tipping his pen in Elliot’s direction. John shrugged. Fin wanted to ask why, but later. He returned to working on his list as Elliot continued his bitching and complaining until Olivia looked ready to pop him one.

* * *

“So what do you want to do tonight?” Fin asked as they headed to the elevators, the work day over.

“You mean besides you?” John replied, more than a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Yeah, _besides_ me.”

“Well, I should head home to get a few more things for Marmalade. Pack a bag with a few changes of clothes, _if_ they don’t disappear by morning like my car did. Another test if you will.” The elevator door closed, leaving them alone for a moment, and he added in a quiet tone, “That is, assuming you’d want us to stay the night again.”

“You gotta ask?”

“Better to ask than make an incorrect assumption. You take the car to your place since you’ve got Batman, if you think he’ll behave on the ride home. I’ll take the subway; this hour it might be faster for me anyway. All goes well and I’ll be out by you by seven or eight.”

“Okay. Want me to make dinner again?” Fin had enjoyed cooking for John the other night, and wouldn’t mind another opportunity to do so.

“As if I’m going to say no to that.”

“Okay, see you later.”

* * *

Fin dropped Batman off at his apartment and checked in on Marmalade before going to his corner grocer, trying to decide what to make tonight. He grabbed some chicken breasts, broccoli and a few other things to make an easy pasta dish. Prepping and making the meal gave him some space in the kitchen to relax, reflect on things.

He had to admit, as much as he was looking forward to some more sexy fun later on (because that was a given), he also liked the simple idea of having someone here with him at night. Someone to spend downtime with and to talk to, after so many years of being on his own. Batman was good company, sure, but canine companionship _did_ have his limitations. And while he was a person who appreciated quiet and solitude, there were nights he had started to wonder if he would end up spending the rest of his life alone.

He didn’t need or even want love and romance, all the messiness those things always seemed to entail. He only wanted companionship, and yeah—the satisfying release of a good fuck on a regular basis. He had a feeling John had reached a similar point in life, and who could blame him after four shitty marriages? So maybe this situation could end up being beneficial to both of them—inside or out of this damn loop.

Fin had finished up everything for dinner save dropping the pasta in the water when John knocked, then let himself in. “Hey, great timing. Be ready to eat in about ten minutes,” Fin said. He’d taken a minute to sit and chill on the sofa with a beer.

“Good, because I’m famished. Where’s my baby girl... _there she is!_ ” John hung up a garment bag on the coat rack, scooped up Marmalade and gave her a big kiss on her tiny nose. Fin noticed that John had changed into another casual outfit for the night: blue jeans and a black t-shirt, along with a thin olive green jacket. It was definitely hot—or maybe it was the novelty of once more seeing John in more relaxed attire than his usual suits. Fin got up and went to give John a kiss of his own, as he’d been thinking about doing all day at work. Slow and soft, for now, because he didn’t want to get too worked up until they’d had a chance to eat.

“Smell nice. You take a shower?” Fin asked.

“Quickie, since I was changing clothes.”

“You look good.”

“Thanks. But how about dinner before we forget to eat?”

“Right. I’ll finish up, you get the table ready.”

* * *

“So much for another same-day at work. You get any more ideas or working theories out of it?” Fin asked.

“No,” John answered with a sigh, as he picked at the last pieces of pasta on his plate. “Just that no one else seems trapped in this, which is at least one possibility we can eliminate.”

“Yeah. I tried to expand around our same-day timeline to look for any patterns on how things changed or stayed the same, and nothing jumped out at me.”

Batman woofed at John’s feet and he reached down to pet his head, give him a last piece of chicken he’d saved for the dog. “I did set up one experiment today that will be interesting to see how it progresses,” John said.

“Oh?”

“Mm hmm. We’ve already noticed Batman and Marmalade’s... _things_....stay behind every day. Things we buy for them and the things they, well, leave behind. At least in our apartments. I decided to see if that translates to other locations as well.”

“Such as...”

“Oh, such as a plastic baggie of Batman’s poop left in one of the drawers of Elliot’s desk. All the way in the back behind files he hasn’t looked at in months.”

“The Hell? What’s with you and Elliot today?” Fin demanded.

“What’s with me is he’s a hot-headed son of a bitch who’s gotten away with more shit on the job than any of the rest of us ever could. Not without losing our jobs, at least—and our pensions. He can’t control his temper and it’s only getting worse. He should have transferred out of SVU years ago and moved on to another assignment. But no, that would have separated him from his work-wife Olivia, who he’s going to string along forever because he’s too much of a weasel to either leave Kathy for good _or_ to stop leading on poor Olivia that they could have any kind of future together. And that’s not even talking about how he caused _you_ to try to leave last year.”

Fin could only sit back and take in the extent of John’s venom. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Let it all out, why don’t you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re much of a fan of the guy after the shit he’s put _you_ through.”

“No, I ain’t.” That was true. He’d never be able to trust him in full again, not after Elliot had made it clear what little trust he put in Fin’s loyalty to the force, and his honesty. But he also didn’t tend to carry deep grudges the way John obviously did.

“Look, I just feel like having some fun at the guy’s expense since it’s not going to matter come next same-day anyway,” John argued, trying to lighten his tone.

“Unless you end up stinking out the 16th with Batman’s shit.”

“A small price to pay to watch Elliot’s reaction when he finds it.”

Fin let the conversation drop at that.

* * *

John sat on the sofa to play with Marmalade while Fin cleaned up after dinner. He offered to help but Fin told him no, “I know where everything goes.” After a while John stretched out, letting the kitten make a warm purring nest on his chest. It felt good, relaxing. He didn’t even realize he’d started to drift asleep until he felt a hot, tickling breath against his lips awakening him. He reached up to feel the soft fuzz of Fin’s short-cropped hair beneath his fingers.

Opening his eyes, he found Fin leaning over him, looking down at him, and John smiled.

“Fallin’ asleep on me?” Fin teased.

“Resting up before the main event.” John pulled Fin close for the kiss this time, tongue playfully licking at his lips as they parted to his demand. Yesterday he’d been utterly filthy, wanting to kiss and taste everything Fin had to give him. Tonight he could use more easy-going attention, soft kisses like this, maybe a leisurely, long fuck...

“Come to bed,” Fin said, in a tone of voice that did not broker dissent. John sat up, moving Marmalade to her cat bed before following Fin into the bedroom.

Fin undressed to nothing but his underwear in quick fashion. John shimmied out of his jeans and got on the bed, leaving his t-shirt and briefs for Fin to get off him. _Make the man work for it,_ he thought with a coy grin. Heat rushed to his groin just from the way Fin was sizing him up.

“You planning on looking all night or are you going to come here and get some already?” John challenged.

“Oh I’m gettin' some, that’s for sure.” Fin joined him on the bed, crawling up over John to get to his mouth. John reached for him, running hands over Fin’s skin as the man hovered above him. Fin toyed with John’s shirt, slipping a hand beneath it, that touch enough to make him tremble after a day of quiet wanting. They enjoyed several long, lingering kisses that felt as good as any John could remember, but they also left him desperate for more—especially once Fin finally urged him out of his shirt and they were both in a similar state of undress.

“Move up,” John encouraged, sliding his hands further down to try to get to Fin’s ass. “I need a taste of you for dessert.”

Fin shifted up over him, until John could get his hands on Fin’s ass, slide his underwear down. His penis sprung out temptingly, half-hard and rising fast. John adjusted the pillows under his head and his position so he could lean forward and lick the tip, one hand massaging Fin’s balls while the other cupped his ass, guiding him in position. Fin made delightful sounds of desperation while John licked and kissed him to full arousal, knowing the salty taste of his pre-come was only a tease of what was to follow.

Once he was totally hard, John started sucking, humming around that cock in his mouth every time he took Fin deep. Fin groaned and seemed to go unsteady; John released him and blew cool breaths and licked at him until Fin moved forward again, leaning over John and grasping the headboard.

“Better?”

Fin _mmm_ ed in approval. “Don’t want to fall on you but _Jesus_ , that feels good.”

“Oh no, don’t be asking for the second coming when I haven’t even finished giving you your first one yet.” John could get a better grip—with his hand, with his mouth—on Fin now and so he put his best efforts into pleasing him, seeing how quick he could get him to come. He could feel the tension in Fin’s body, him holding back even as his hips bucked, struggling to stay still. John pulled away, dropping his head for a moment to look up and say, “While I appreciate your concern, how about you fuck my mouth already when I’ve giving you a golden opportunity?”

“How about you shut up and fucking _suck my dick_?”

“Oooh, testy tonight.” John stroked him, continuing to tease until when he did take Fin in his mouth again, his partner cursed from the need. John relaxed his throat the best he could to take Fin deeper. _Now_ he could feel Fin bucking against him, trying to slam all the way down his throat. John tried to hold on for as long as he could before his gag reflex kicked in and he needed to rest his jaw, going back to licks and cool breaths.

“If you that do again...gonna come right down your throat,” Fin panted.

“That’s kind of the idea.”

John teased a while longer, until he was confident from Fin’s breathing and grunts that it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. He sucked and swallowed deep, humming around Fin’s cock and knowing those vibrations would work their magic.

Sure enough Fin groaned louder, desperately. John grabbed Fin’s ass to steady him as he came, John swallowing as fast as the hot spurts hit the back of his throat. He sucked that cock dry and didn’t let up until Fin pulled away, dropping down to cuddle and share some languid, wet kisses.

“Enjoyed yourself?”

“Oh yeah. Only one problem. Gonna be a while before I’m ready to fuck you.”

“Hmm...whatever could you do in the meantime,” John replied, none too subtly arching up against Fin.

“Yeah, I get the hint. I’m getting there.” Fin kissed a path from John’s lips to his collarbone, his facial hair tickling and teasing as he went along. He pressed his mouth on skin bruised yesterday and John squirmed and sucked in his breath. “Sorry, just too pretty to resist,” Fin apologized.

“No...felt good.” That tiny blossom of pain actually had gone straight to his dick, making him harder than before. But too much more of this torture and he was going to come from nothing but rubbing against Fin’s body.

Then again, he’d take coming any way possible.

Fin, however, finally moved lower. He slipped his hands under the waistband of John’s underwear to tug them off his body. John laid back and sighed as Fin then started caressing his erection, using both mouth and hand. He wanted to close his eyes and drift off on the sensations, but he didn’t want to stop watching Fin either. “You look so hot with my cock in your mouth,” he encouraged, melting inside as Fin looked up at him with those intense, deep eyes. _God, he’s gorgeous. And for at least as long as this same-day lasts, he’s all mine._

Fin was doing a good job of learning how to please John with that mouth. He used his tongue to flick and circle around the head as he sucked, keeping up a stronger pressure on the base as he rubbed and squeezed. He even tried taking John deeper, now, just for a moment but it was enough that stars exploded behind his eyes.

Fin pulled back and chuckled, not letting up on his hand motions as he nuzzled his face against John’s inner thigh. “Know I get you goin’ when you start swearing at me in other languages.”

“Was I swearing? All I know is you were sucking my dick and you could get around to doing that again, soon and please.”

Fin did, and John squirmed and no doubt cursed some more, some choice turns of phrase in French because it _did_ seem to invigorate Fin’s efforts. Fin moaned around his cock as he picked up speed with his hand and that was the end of that; John came with a promise of how he would fuck Fin’s brains out ( _je vais baiser la cervelle!)_ For a while after that, thinking—let alone _speaking—_ in _any_ language was more effort than John could muster.

Fin climbed up the bed to lay beside John, collapsing against him as they both seemed too spent for further efforts at the moment.

“That was nice,” Fin said in a sleepy voice.

“Mm hmm,” John agreed.

“Could fall asleep, and it’s barely...” Fin looked up to the alarm, “nine-thirty.”

“Nap-time? Then more playtime?”

“Mmm,” Fin said with a yawn. “Have more plans for you tonight.”

John shivered at that promise of further fun, but it _would_ have to wait for a while. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have all the time in world to get to it if this day would never end. Simply laying here with Fin’s warm body beside his own felt nice, so he didn’t protest as his body led him into restful, post-orgasmic sleep.

* * *

John awoke, however many hours later, disoriented for a moment as to where he was, what was going on. It was still night—he knew that, for the room was dark except for the one bedroom lamp on at a dim setting. Fin wasn’t beside him, and he could hear soft music playing...mellow, soothing, some sexy r ’n b on the stereo that did make him wonder where Fin was. He wouldn’t mind getting sexy again with him with that music putting him in the mood.

He squinted for the alarm, but found it missing. “Don’t worry ’bout the time,” Fin said, entering the bedroom. “Smashed the alarm, ’cause I wanted to. It ain’t that late yet.”

The hour was suddenly the last thing on John’s mind. Not with Fin standing there in an open, satiny robe, deep purple in color, looking like sex on legs and John wanted some of it _now._ “I’m sorry, did you say something besides ‘May I fuck you senseless?’ because the answer to that is yes.”

“We’re getting there, soon enough. Roll over.”

“Gladly.” John flipped over onto his stomach and Fin got on top of him, straddling John’s thighs.

Fin rubbed John’s back with a light, teasing touch. “You said your back was bothering you today, so I thought I’d try to loosen it up for you. Especially if it means you’ll do your trick for me again soon.”

The gentle pressure of Fin’s weight on John’s legs was already stretching his spine nicely. He signed in appreciation, and then let out a small yelp as cool liquid hit the skin of his lower back.

“Relax,” Fin said in a soothing voice. “Just some massage oil. Make it easier for me to rub you down.”

“Ooooh,” John groaned in deep pleasure-pain as Fin’s hands got to work on his lower back, warming the oil on his skin and spreading it all around.

“Too much?” Fin asked, pausing for a moment.

“No, absolutely not, Fin. Shit...harder the better, _uuuh_ —” Fin’s thumbs pressed along the base of his spine, right above his ass, and moved in deliberate, deep circles that left him squirming. Ripples of sensation shot down to his toes and all the way up to the hairs on his head, leaving his scalp tingling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good massage, and his back was a mess of knots and buried, brittle tension to prove it.

“Damn, you _are_ tight.” Fin ran his hands in a measured path all the way up to John’s shoulders, leaning down over him to press a kiss on his neck. “Relax, babe. Want to get to know this body of yours better. Then see how hard I can make you come.”

John offered no complaints to that, only whimpered in contented acceptance of his fate. He closed his eyes—definitely _not_ because he was feeling sleepy—wanting to savor the wonderful touch of Fin’s hands on his body. Fin went to work on John’s shoulders and upper back, fingers digging in deep, probing in slow, repetitive movements until each point of tension gave in. Fin poured more oil onto his skin and John shivered, squirmed against the mattress. Not only did the massage feel good but he delighted in feeling trapped, pinned down under Fin. He was getting hard again, thinking about other things he’d like Fin to do to him. And things he’d revel in doing, in return...

Gradually those hands moved downward, to the base of his spine. This pass, the worst of the tension seemed released, and he _mmm_ ed his approval at the pleasing touch. Fin re-positioned himself, and another pour of cold oil hit John, right at the cleft of his ass. He groaned at that, as Fin then dipped his thumbs into the pooled oil and started massaging it in.

“Can’t forget this hot ass, can I?”

“You’d better not.” Fin massaged both cheeks, maddeningly slowly, hands rubbing and cupping...then running the thumb of his right hand down between them. Fin pressed gently at his entrance, and that made John whimper.

“You ready for me?”

“I’ve been fucking ready all night so as nice as this has been, hon, will you please fuck me already?!”

“Hold on...” Fin got off him, only long enough to reach for the lube, on the nightstand. “Gotta slick you up with something else.”

“Oh, please.” John’s breath was a hiss as Fin slipped a cool finger inside, not waiting long to add a second to the party, then a third. “Fingers are nice but I want dick, Fin.”

“Fine.” Fin pulled back, and John contemplated _how_ he wanted it. He decided he needed it face to face, needed to _see_ Fin after this long session of bring tormented and pleased by his hands alone.

He rolled over and took in the sight of Fin slicking himself up, still looking so incredible in that open robe but then telling him, “Take that thing off. As sexy as it looks on you I’m going to ruin it if you try to fuck me while wearing it.”

“Probably would be back to normal tomorrow.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I want my hands all over _you._ ”

Fin shrugged off the robe and tossed it to the ground. He leaned over John, kissing him, sucking on his bottom lip as John shifted into position, raising and spreading his legs. He did feel limbered up, loose and ready to get Fin inside of him. Fin wasted no more time, using his hand to guide the head of his cock into John’s ass, John gasping at that first push into him.

“Okay?”

“Fuck, Fin, _please_.” This measured torture was almost worse than if Fin just rammed into him, overloading his senses. There was pain—at first, more from the shock of that thick cock stretching him than anything else. But he knew how good it would feel soon enough, and he reached down to stroke his own erection, the pleasure of _that_ relaxing him even further.

“Fuck that’s hot.” Fin shifted, pushing deeper. John groaned, sweat breaking out on his skin, glorious pain and pleasure mixing together. Fin groaned, too, starting to move in a repetitive rhythm. “Damn I love your tight ass. Feels so good.”

“I love you fucking my ass. Fuck me good, make me scream it hurts so good.” And John nearly did scream as Fin thrust deeper, almost all the way in one sudden rough thrust. John stopped stroking himself and grasped for his knees, pulling them up higher, farther apart, wanting Fin as deep inside as he could get. “Impale me on that dick... _fuck_ , like that _.”_

He couldn’t think to swear in English, French or any other language now. Just as well, as Fin leaned further over him, sought out his mouth, kissed him between grunts and moans as they fucked urgently, greedy, desperate. They went at it like animals, faster and rougher until John felt the orgasm rip through him, a warm rush starting in his prostate and then swelling to spill out from his dick in a blast of ecstasy.

Fin pumped his ass even harder then, slamming John into the mattress until his own panting grunts turned into a near roar. A few more pounding thrusts and then he collapsed onto John’s body, sweaty and breathing sharply.

“I assume...it was good for you, too?” John managed weakly.

“Mother. Fucker. I’m. Dead.”

“Then if you don’t mind, please roll your dead weight off me before I suffocate.”

“Mmph. Sorry.”

Fin gently eased out and off of John, who stretched out his legs and arms before they cramped up. Closing his eyes, he heard the music turn off and the light go dim, and then he felt Fin cleaning him off with a tissue. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about being a sticky mess. “You look like the cat that got all the cream,” Fin teased.

“Not far from the truth.”

Fin laid down and nudged John so they could spoon together, cuddled in a very comfortable position for the night. Kissing the nape of John’s neck, Fin asked, “That really feels that good for you, too?”

“Yes, it really does. When you’re ready I’ll show you.”

“Maybe in another same-day or two.”

“No rush. Though if we stay home for dinner tomorrow night? I want you to serve it to me in nothing but that robe.”

“You wear nothin’ but those tight blue jeans and you’ve got a deal.”

John smiled to himself, feeling a happy mess that was somewhat sore, incredibly relaxed, and more than ready for a good night’s sleep. It only idly tickled the dark corners of his brain that he’d so easily called Fin’s apartment “home” after spending, what was it...three nights here? But in a way it did already feel like home, as much if not more than his own apartment of the past decade. He knew that realization should receive further thought and analysis, but now wasn’t the time for it.

Maybe if or whenever they finally woke up to a genuinely new day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience waiting for this chapter! I've been under the weather and traveling so finding time to edit has been difficult.
> 
> I am most likely going to try to post a chapter every week or so now, possibly every 2 weeks once we get to Chapter 15 (which is the point to which it had been fully drafted, so there's a bit more work to do on the rest of it.) Thanks for any comments and I hope you're still enjoying the ride.


	13. A Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their usual same-day morning is interrupted by a call from the captain, who sends them out after a fugitive. But when things go wrong and John is injured, evidence casts Fin in a suspicious light to their colleagues.

 

 

**Day 13**

John woke before the clock again. He propped himself up on his arm and watched Fin sleep. The alarm was perfectly fine on the nightstand, reading 5:58 again. Fin looked good in sleep, and John wanted to kiss him awake, but he _really_ hated morning breath. Strange, there were very few things he was squeamish about sexually, but morning breath was high up on his list.

The alarm went off, blaring loudly. Fin groaned and reached to slap it off again, but John got to it first. Fin smiled at John and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his neck. It was a little scary how fast he was getting used to waking up next to John. He wanted to kiss John good morning, but he respected John’s (silly) no morning breath rule.

“Jesus, baby, I wanna fuck you before we go to work,” Fin said, pushing his dick against John’s thigh. “You up for a quickie?”

“I’m up for however much sex you wanna have, hon.”

“Fucking dick monster.”

“You love it. Definitely fuck me.”

“Just don’t kiss you, I know. Should start keeping mouthwash by the bed, assuming it doesn’t end up back in the bathroom by the morning. You look so delectable stretched out in my bed, God, baby, I can’t resist.”

“Who said anything about resisting?”

Fin reached for the lube and prepared John quickly but thoroughly. God, John was so tight around his fingers and he wanted to slide in and fuck him so badly, but he wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to hurt John. He never wanted to hurt John.

John was moaning and begging underneath him. “God, Fin, fuck me, please. What a start to the morning, your dick, I want your dick in me, impale me on that dick, please, God, I want it so badly, please, Fin!”

“Oh, don’t you worry, you’re definitely getting this dick,” Fin purred, slicking himself up. “Gonna give it to you good, hard and fast, you want it like that, baby?”

“Oh, hell yes,” John panted. “Love hard and fast, God, please.”

Fin eased in—Jesus, John was tight—wanting to make sure John could adjust. John swore at the temporary pain as that thick dick entered him, but Fin bent down and sucked on his neck, and he swore for a completely different reason.

Fin slid all the way in and paused, letting John adjust and giving himself a moment to control himself.

“Fin, I’m fine, I’m not gonna break, you know I can take your gorgeous dick, fuck me with it, fuck me hard, come on Fin, don’t you want to fuck my ass?”

“You don’t shut the fuck up for a second, I’m gonna come right now.”

John obediently shut his mouth—Fin was impressed, John was _never_ silent. Fin pulled out and slammed back in, moaning how good it felt. “God, John, you’re so tight, I love it, your ass feels amazin’.”

“Mmm, your _dick_ feels amazing. Now _fuck me_.”

Fin pounded into John hard, mindful of the time. He _did_ want to go into work today and take more notes on the loop, and he definitely wasn’t up for another marathon sexual exploration day with his own private dick monster.

But this felt good, John was like a velvet vise around him, John had wrapped his legs around Fin and was pulling him in deeper at the end of every thrust, John—fuck it, John was swearing again in another language, God, that turned Fin on so much. At least he _thought_ it was swearing, but for all he knew, John was telling him how to bake a cake in Yiddish or Russian or whatever but Fin firmly did not care, it was _sexy_.

“Oh baby, definitely keep _that_ up,” he moaned.

“Mm, my Russian turns you on?” John purred, then pulled Fin down and muttered something in Russian directly in his ear.

“ _Fuck_!” Fin howled, _slamming_ into John at that. “Jesus, that’s so hot, I’m gonna come.”

“Then come, hon, come, come in me, I want your come,” John purred. He added one last swear in Russian, purred right against Fin’s ear in a voice dripping with sex.

Fin came with a roar of John’s name and looked at John, who was still hard. “Mmm, sorry, baby, you were too hot,” he panted, pulling out. “Let me suck you off.”

“Oh, you’ll definitely get no objection from me,” John said, giving Fin’s head a push. Fin went obediently and sucked John’s cock hard, taking in as much as he could, no finesse. He knew John needed to come, was close, and he tried to keep his tongue busy as he sucked.

John was coming down his throat very quickly and said with a touch of chagrin, “Usually I last longer than _that_.”

“Mm, but I did just fuck that ass hard. Come on, shower before work.”

Fin’s phone rang and he grabbed it quickly.

“Fin,” he said, on alert as this was an unusual change from the daily routine.

 _“You planning on showing up today?”_ Cragen asked. _“You and Munch have a case; I’m calling him next. Sending you two to a warehouse—we got a tip about an old case. Remember Bullman?”_

“Of course, bastard skated on a warrant for rape of a thirteen year old, hard to forget _that_.”

_“Well, we got a tip he’s hiding out in a warehouse.”_

“On our way, Captain. I’ll let Munch know, he crashed here last night.”

 _“Okay, saves me a call_.” Cragen gave him the address and said, _“Be quick, we don’t want him getting away again. He may have an accomplice this time. Be careful. Patrol will meet you there.”_

“Yes, Cap.”

Fin hung up and said to John, “We gotta go. We got a case and we have to get to a warehouse before we lose Bullman again.” The animals would have to make due for now on their dry food and water; if he had to clean up another mess from Batman later on, so be it.

“And they don’t send patrol why?” John grumbled as he went for his clothes. He was pleased to see his garment bag had in fact stayed the night, so he had a few options from which to choose this morning.

“They’re meeting us there. But you know SVU’s supposed to bag this guy.”

“Not gonna matter come next-same day.”

“Who knows, this could be a key to the loop.”

“Maybe. Still wish I had time for a shower after _that_ quickie,” John said, knotting his tie. “Oooh, can still feel it. You went _hard_ , hon.”

“Stop that,” Fin said, strapping on his holster and sliding his gun in. “I wanna investigate this and see if it has any clues about our loop, especially since this hasn’t happened in the loop yet, and if you keep that up, I’m gonna say fuck it and fuck you again.”

“And _that’s_ supposed to make me stop?” John asked.

“Fucking dick monster,” Fin said good-naturedly, put his hand on John’s back, and gave him a shove out the door.

* * *

They entered the warehouse and sighed. “So much for patrol meeting us here.”

“Let’s split up,” John said. “You go that way, I’ll go this way.”

“Be careful.”

“You, too.”

John went along the hallway, which was overflowing with boxes, his gun drawn. “NYPD!” he called. “Police! Come out with your hands up!” He peered around a corner carefully, gun first, then swung around it. He heard noises behind him and turned immediately, swinging his gun around.

But there was nothing there, just someone behind him now and he turned again quickly to fend them off.

“Police!” he identified himself.

He got a wooden bat to his midsection for his troubles, and doubled over in pain. “Drop it!” he said, wheezing in shock and pain—God, was that his rib?—and managed to keep his gun up. “I said _drop it_!”

The bat got swung again, faster than John could react, whacking his leg, and John went down hard. His gun fell out of his hand and he lunged for it, but he got another hit to his midsection. His vision swam with pain. He scrambled for his gun but the guy attacked with the bat again, whacking it into his leg again, then his chest.

John wondered why the guy didn’t just pick up his gun and shoot him, but he wasn’t complaining—he certainly didn’t _want_ to be shot—and he rolled into a ball to fend off the blows, throwing an arm out to try to get his damn gun, which was irritatingly just out of reach. More blows fell on his back, undoing all of Fin’s work from last night. It hurt terribly, and his vision was swimming, black dots starting to swim in front of his eyes. One last hard crack against his neck and the dots merged, and John fell into unconsciousness on the warehouse floor.

* * *

Fin was stalking along his section, gun also drawn. He heard movement in front of him and sped up. “NYPD, don’t move!” he called as he rounded a corner. He found a gun in his face. _“Drop it!”_

The gun stayed up and Fin steadied his. “I said _fuckin’ drop it_! I ain’t playin’!”

The gun clattered to the floor. “Good,” Fin said, lowering his carefully and kicking aside the perp’s gun. He recognized Bullman immediately. “You’re under arrest, punk.”

Bullman rushed Fin, knocking him to the floor, and Fin yelled in surprised. They landed on the floor in a heap, and Bullman punched Fin hard in the face. Fin landed several blows, but received quite a few in turn. They were evenly matched, and Fin wasn’t able to get a shot off in this position—his gun arm was pinned, he was punching with his left. He wondered _where the fuck_ patrol was—or John, for that matter. Hopefully John was at least okay.

“NYPD!” someone called. “Everybody freeze!”

Fin stopped attacking and got another blow to his face before Bullman got pulled off him. “You’re under arrest,” the officer said to Bullman.

“You too,” the other officer said to Fin, yanking him to his feet. “And then you can tell me where the detectives are and what you’ve done with them.”

“Well,” Fin said dryly, “You’re lookin’ at one of them. Detective Tutuola, Manhattan SVU.” He showed his badge and said, “About time you guys showed up. Any sign of Sergeant Munch?”

“Other squad car is looking for him. Sorry about the misunderstanding, Detective, and sorry we’re late. There was an accident on the way. Let’s get you to the hospital and get you checked out. You look pretty roughed up.”

“Not until I know my partner’s okay.”

“You know you don’t have a choice, Detective,” the officer said firmly. “You know procedure. We’ll find Sergeant Munch and get him checked out, too, if he needs it.”

* * *

Cragen rushed along the hospital hallways, Liv and Elliot with him. The doctor had called and said both John and Fin had been attacked trying to bring Bullman in (patrol had also called and said they had managed to collar Bullman, some good news at least). Fin was fine, just badly bruised, but John was still unconscious. And something in the doctor’s tone had made Cragen think there was more going on.

“Dr. Bergen?” Cragen asked.

“Yes?”

“Captain Cragen,” Cragen said, flashing his badge. “How is Sergeant Munch? I’m his commanding officer.”

The doctor snapped a file shut and pulled Craged aside. He said quietly, “He’s still unconscious. He’s got a cracked rib and some internal bleeding, as well as a _lot_ of bruises. He was attacked pretty badly. He’ll be fine, no spinal damage, even though his back was attacked badly. The rib didn’t break fully, just cracked, so no organ damage. He was lucky in that respect. However…”

“What?”

“When we examined Sergeant Munch, we found bite marks on his neck, evidence of rough anal penetration, fluids in his rectum, and saliva on his penis. As such, we believe he was raped while he was unconscious.”

Cragen frowned deeply.

“We did a rape kit,” the doctor said. “The fluid appears to be semen. We sent it off to the lab already.”

“I’ll call and have them put a rush on it, and Detectives Benson and Stabler will handle the case,” Cragen said grimly.

* * *

John woke up in the hospital and groaned. God, he hurt. His rib hurt like a _bitch_. Hell, most of his body hurt.

He looked around, hoping to see Fin, but instead saw Liv and, ugh, Elliot in his room. “Where’s Fin?” he asked worriedly.

“Also being checked out,” Liv said, “although don’t worry, he’s in _much_ better shape than you. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Yeah, Fin and I went to some abandoned warehouse to track down Bullman—you remember him?”

“Hard to forget that motherfucking prick,” Elliot muttered.

“Was told patrol was gonna meet us there,” John said, trying to speak as little as possible. It hurt to talk. “Patrol wasn’t there. We didn’t want to lose him so we went in. Big place. Split up. Heard a noise and turned, then heard someone behind me and turned again. He got me with a bat to my chest. Hit me again, dropped my gun, hit me in the chest again, kept hitting me. Blacked out.”

“Was it Bullman?”

“No.”

“What did he look like?”

“Uh…” John thought back. “Six four. About 200 pounds. Maybe 220. White. Brown hair, green eyes. No beard, trace of stubble. Nose looked like it’d been broken before. Had a tattoo on his hand. Fucking peace sign. Thought it was ironic. Could describe him to a sketch artist if I had to.”

“You don’t remember anything else?” Liv asked gently.

“No. Why?” John asked suspiciously, recognizing that tone of voice.

Liv took a deep breath. “They found fluids, John. You were raped while you were unconscious.”

John went white. “What?”

“I’m sorry, John,” Liv said softly, grasping his hand cautiously. He didn’t shy away from the touch—hell, he had no memory of being raped, he didn’t react like he “should”. “We’ll find the bastard, I promise.”

“How?” John asked sourly. “I remember nothing. If he’s not in the system, how are you gonna find him, huh? We don’t even know if the guy who beat me is the guy who raped me. Even if you _do_ find him, how are they gonna prove anything?”

“John, you can’t think like that, and you _know_ we’ve caught—and convicted—rapists before when they’ve raped unconscious victims,” Liv said, squeezing his hand.

The word victim hit him like a punch. God, he was a _victim_. He never had thought of himself that way, but that’s what he was now. A rape victim.

“What… what did they find?” he asked weakly.

Elliot finally spoke up. He had let Liv take the lead on this, figuring she’d be better at this part, but he felt like he should finally say _something_. “Uh… evidence of rough anal penetration, semen, and saliva on your, uh… penis,” he finished, trying not flush red. He was used to these words, but this _was_ his _coworker_ after all. “As well as bite marks on your neck.”

John nodded absently. “Guess he really worked me over. Anyone do a rape kit?”

“Already done. They figured you’d prefer to be unconscious for it, given how unpleasant it is. Cragen already called the lab to rush the DNA.”

“Thank you,” John said, lying back on the pillow. “Sorry, I don’t remember _anything_.”

“Maybe better that way,” Liv offered. “You don’t have to relive the rape day in, day out.”

“No, I just have to wonder constantly what happened,” John said sourly. “Where’s Fin, I wanna see him. Make sure he’s okay.”

He started pushing himself up and Liv said, “Whoa, John, you’ve got a cracked rib, doctors want you to stay put. I’ll make sure Fin comes by.”

* * *

Liv and Elliot entered the squad room. “Poor John,” Liv sighed. “He might be right about it being worse not to remember, always wondering.”

“How’d he let that happen, that’s what I wanna know.”

Liv shot Elliot a disgusted look. “ _Let_? He’s a _rape victim_ , El, since when do we blame a victim?”

“He’s a cop, he has a gun. How’d he let someone get the better of him?”

“He was attacked with a baseball bat because patrol wasn’t there to back them up!” Liv snapped. “You got a problem, El?”

“Just think he could’ve prevented this.”

“I can’t believe you sometimes.”

Cragen came out of his office. “You two, John give you anything to go on with his rape?”

Liv shot Elliot one last dirty look and said, “No, he was unconscious.”

“Or so he says,” Elliot muttered.

“You have something to say, Elliot?” Cragen asked in a low, quiet voice.

“Just that he had a gun, how’d he let this happen?”

Liv made another noise of disgust. Cragen frowned deeply and said to Elliot, “From what I understand, he was attacked while he was pursuing a suspect alone, and Elliot, in this unit, we _never_ blame the victim, do I make myself clear? He is your colleague and a victim, and you are to treat him with respect.”

“Yes, Captain,” Elliot muttered.

“Go sit on the lab until they give you something,” Cragen ordered. “Let’s hope the perp is in the system, otherwise it’s gonna be tough to get justice for John or even find his attacker.”

“On our way now,” Liv said.

“And Elliot?” Cragen said. “I find out you said _anything_ like that to John, and I will transfer your ass out of here, if not fire you, so fast you will get whiplash, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Liv and Elliot entered the morgue. “You get John’s rape kit?” Liv asked.

“Yeah, I did,” Melinda said, stripping off her gloves. “We’re running the DNA right now. While we do that, what the hell happened to him? Is he okay?”

“He was attacked trying to apprehend Bullman. Got beaten and knocked unconscious and they found fluids at the hospital,” Liv said. “He remembers nothing.”

Melinda shook her head. “Guy’s got _balls_ , attacking a cop.”

“We’re just hoping he’s in the system, otherwise we don’t have much to go on. John gave us a description of the guy who attacked him, but that’s not necessarily enough probable cause to get a warrant for his DNA, assuming we’d even _find_ the guy again.”

The computer dinged and they all went over.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Elliot swore. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. I am actually, really, truly gonna kill him.”

“Whoa, El, no,” Liv said. “We gotta bring him in before he bolts, then we’re gonna let the captain know. And you’re _not_ doing anything to him, certainly not killing him. But if this is true, we’re putting him in a deep, dark hole for the rest of his life.”

They stormed out and Melinda looked in shock as the computer flashed the match: Odafin Tutuola.

* * *

They rushed to the hospital, hoping they hadn’t released Fin yet. Elliot was saying constantly as he drove that he had never trusted Fin, to which Liv scoffed. That was the most shocking thing—Fin had always been a straight shooter, a loyal, good cop. It was _stunning_ that he would _do_ something like _this_.

They found Fin just entering John’s room.

“You motherfucking _bastard_!” Elliot screamed, punching Fin in the jaw hard.

“Whoa, Elliot!” John screamed.

“What the _fuck_ , man?” Fin asked, rubbing his jaw.

“You _raped_ John!” Elliot snapped, getting ready to punch Fin again.

“I— _what?_ ” Fin asked, completely lost. “Who said anythin’ about John bein’ raped?”

Liv spoke up, her voice low with anger. “When they brought John in, they found fluids and did a rape kit. We just got the DNA results—they match _you_ , Fin.”

John sighed in relief. “In that case, I wasn’t raped,” he said. “We, uh, we had a quickie before work this morning, and he sucked me off, too.”

Elliot looked at John disgustedly. “Why didn’t you just fucking say you’re fucking _him_?” he said, gesturing to Fin.

“Gee, thanks,” Fin said, none-too-pleased by Elliot’s tone of voice.

“I didn’t think of it! I woke up and you told me I’d been raped. I assumed I had been and didn’t even _think_ of this morning with Fin, and honestly, I’m _shocked_ either of you could think he’d even do something like that!”

Liv nodded shamefully. “You’re right, I definitely should’ve known better. Fin, I… there aren’t _words_ for how sorry I am.”

“Apology accepted,” Fin said. “Know how bad the evidence must’ve looked, and _you_ didn’t deck me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Elliot ground out.

“You’re an ass, Elliot,” Fin snapped. “You don’t think, and you use your fists instead of your words. _You_ ain’t forgiven. I told you before, you’re a bulldog, Stabler. Quick to judgment, slow to apologize, and hell, I don’t even think anymore it makes you a good cop—you sure as fuck fucked this one up. Sure as fuck doesn’t make you a good human bein’. _You_ can get the fuck out of here, I wanna spend time with John, make sure he’s okay.”

Elliot stormed out and Liv stayed behind a moment.

“I don’t know how you put up with that prick,” Fin said. “You’re a fuckin’ saint, Liv.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not too happy with him right now. He’s been a real dick about this whole thing,” Liv said. “Not gonna repeat what he said, ’cause you don’t need that stress—especially not you, John, not with your rib—but he really pissed me off today.”

“Yeah, I think I can imagine what he said,” John said.

Fin grasped his hand. He said to Liv, “Listen, they wanna keep John here for a few more hours, and we got a couple pets back at my apartment. John recently adopted a kitten and I just got a puppy. You mind goin’ to my place, feedin’ em, and takin’ the pup out for a quick walk before he bursts?”

“No, not at all,” Liv said. “What’re their names?”

“The dog’s Batman and the cat’s Munchkin,” Fin said.

“She’s _Marmalade_ ,” John said with a sigh.

Fin leaned over and gave John a quick kiss. “Fine, Marmalade. Don’t work yourself up, can’t be good for a cracked rib. Just how long are they keepin’ you?”

“Does it matter? It’s gonna reset by morning.”

“We hope. But I’d feel better if you let them take care of you anyway, baby.”

He looked over and saw Liv still there and flushed. “Oh. Sorry. Thought you left.”

“I need a key to your apartment, Fin,” Liv said practically.

“Oh, right.” He handed Liv the key.

Liv said as she left, “You two are so cute together. I’m glad you found each other.”

She left and Fin sputtered, trying to explain.

“Don’t bother, Fin,” John said. “By the next-same day, she’ll have forgotten anyway.”

“Wonder if Elliot found that bag of shit today,” Fin said.

“Thought you didn’t approve.”

“Fuck, after _that_ , you go ahead and keep up your vendetta. Nasty son-of-a-bitch.”

“Yeah, well, somehow I don’t think salt in his coffee and a bag of dogshit is enough anymore,” John said grimly. “Gonna punish that motherfucker for being such a nasty, hotheaded, judgmental fucking prick. Thinking _you’d_ ever rape me! Thinking _you’d_ ever rape _anyone_! And then decking you instead of just asking about it when they got the evidence! Well, I’m not stopping at salt in his coffee and taking his cell phone, I’m gonna _fuck him up_.”

“Like I’m gonna stop you, but baby, calm down. You’re gonna send your blood pressure up and then they’re gonna keep you longer.”

John lay back against the pillows. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Fin. We’re fucking, not in a relationship.”

“You’re still my best friend,” Fin said. “And the only other person in this loop. Hell yeah, I’m stayin’.”

“Too bad this happened,” John sighed. “I was looking forward to more fun with you tonight.”

“You really are the fuckin’ dick monster,” Fin said dryly. “Jesus, you have an inexhaustible supply of come, don’t you?”

“For you? Hell yeah.”

His eyes slid shut and he muttered, “I’m so tired.”

“Sleep then. I’ll wake you when they finally let you out of here.

* * *

 

They were finally back at Fin’s apartment, and Fin was tucking John into bed. “Just sleep, you gotta be in a lot of pain.”

“Mm, I’ll feel better by the morning,” John said. “Not that I mind being taken care of.”

Actually, while he knew they were just fuck buddies—a pang shot through him at that—it felt _really nice_ to have Fin taking care of him like this. Felt almost like there was something more, and it made him long for… he didn’t know what, and he didn’t examine it.

Fin leaned down and kissed John goodnight. “I’m gonna take the couch. I’m sure I’ll end up in bed again, when this resets and you and I magically heal, but until then I don’t wanna jar your rib. Shout if you need anythin’.”

John felt emotional but he put it down to the morphine they had given him at the hospital. “Thanks, Fin.”

Fin leaned down for a quick kiss and ran his hand through John’s hair.

“I never even asked, how’s your face?”

“Hurts a bit, but it’ll be fine the next-same day,” Fin said. “Jaw hurts where Stabler punched it—he swung at me _hard_ , harder than Bullman today.”

“Anything break?”

“Nah. Got my jaw checked while you slept. No breaks, although Stabler’s punch was a nasty fucking one.”

John muttered angrily as he snuggled under the covers, planning his revenge.

“Just rest. We have _plenty_ of time to fuck with Stabler,” Fin said. “You want Munchkin?”

“Yeah. Studies show that a kitten’s purr can accelerate healing.”

“So can a loop resetting.” At least, Fin hoped and assumed their injuries would reset; he didn’t like seeing John like this.

“Just give me my kitty— _Marmalade_ —Fin.”

Fin placed her next to John, who had started drifting off. Fin hoped the lack of goodnight sex didn’t mean John would end up back in his own apartment, and he went to stretch out on the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but he had the feeling John would feel better without accidentally being jarred by a sleeping partner, at least until the injuries healed.

He drifted off, missing already the feeling of John next to him, a feeling he did not examine closely.


	14. Bullman and Bedrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Fin wake up to some new unpleasant discoveries as to what does—and doesn't—reset in the time loop. So Fin decides to test out a theory which could put him in harm's way, something that doesn't exactly please John when he finds out about it.

**Day 14**

John didn’t beat the alarm this next same-day—in fact he slept straight through it. He didn’t begin to wake up at all until he heard Fin’s voice in his ear and felt his hand pressing against his forehead.

“…you okay, babe?” The gentle words began to cut through the fog in his brain. “Yo, John? _John!_ ”

The note of panic as Fin repeated his name finally dragged him into full consciousness. He found himself looking up into worried brown eyes, that concern confusing him for a moment. “Fin, what’s wro—oh mother _fuck._ ” John grimaced as trying to push himself up in bed set off a shockwave of pain and nausea.

“Easy, babe, easy. Don’t try to get up. You got banged up pretty bad yesterday—I mean last same-day…remember?”

Oh yes, John remembered. He wasn’t going to forget _that_ , at least not up until the moment he’d blacked out. He remembered the baseball bat to his chest, getting knocked to the floor…and the mess in the hospital that had followed. “I feel like hell,” he managed with no small effort. Talking, even _breathing_ hurt right now.

“You look it, too. Guess when somethin’ happens to _us_ in this loop, it doesn’t necessarily reset the next day. My jaw still hurts from where that son of a bitch Elliot clocked me.” Fin rubbed his chin, then gave John a sheepish look. “Shoulda figured that out, I guess, when you still had those hickeys after...uh, Fuck Day.”

“And my back bothering me too, from showing off.” John winced, collapsing in defeat. “Suppose all that sex…clouded our abilities to logically think things through.”

“Ain’t nothin’ logical about what’s happening to us, anyway, so no point feeling dumb about it. If it’s any consolation, those hickeys are gone now. Maybe we heal up faster than normal, even if we get hurt. But you’re all shades of purple and yellow where that fucker beat you up.”

John didn’t bother to lift the covers to confirm Fin’s observations. “Guess I’m not going anywhere today.”

“No, you are not. You’re staying in this bed and getting some rest.”

John wasn’t about to argue. “Does that mean you’re going to stay here all day to take care of me?” he asked hopefully.

Fin looked tempted, but also as if he had something else on his mind. “I would, but I got something to check out at work. A theory I want to test. Think you’ll be okay if I go in?”

“What trouble could I possibly get into, helpless and weak as I am?”

“I’m almost afraid to find out.” Fin leaned over and kissed him on the forehead and said, “Gotta shower quick and take Batman out for his walk before I go. Bring you somethin’ to eat from the deli.”

John pouted. “No morning blowjob to speed the healing process?”

“ _That_ will have to wait until tonight.”

“You’re mean.”

“No, I’m practical,” Fin said. “I get started on you now, I’m never gonna get in to work on time.”

“And that would be a problem because…?”

“You’ll find out. Later. Maybe.”

Fin was being cryptic and that puzzled John, but he also didn’t mind just having a lazy morning to sleep in and rest some more. In fact he’d already drifted off by the time Fin finished his shower and hustled out the door with Batman.

* * *

Fin made fast work of the puppy’s morning walk, stopping only to grab some juice, a couple doughnuts, and a pre-made sandwich for John for lunch, if he felt up to eating. He hurried back to the apartment to leave the doghnuts and juice by John on the bedside table, then put the rest in the refrigerator. He also left the coffee pot on “warm” in case John wanted some when he woke. Marmalade had returned to napping by John’s head after eating her own breakfast.

Fin wanted to say goodbye for the day but John appeared so peaceful as he slept, he didn’t dare disturb him. He had looked so awful this morning when Fin had first walked in and seen those bruises all over his midsection… That was when, and why, Fin had decided there was something he _needed_ to do, even if he’d rather spend this day making sure John was okay.

Fin put more dry food out for both pets and then ran out the door again, grabbing his cell phone and donning his holster and gun. As he walked down the block to his car, he pulled up the captain’s number on his phone, seeing by the time that he would be in already. Cragen always tried to beat the rest of them by at least a half-hour.

 _“Cragen,”_ he answered gruffly. Fin also knew the captain generally didn’t like phone calls before he’d had his morning time to himself to prepare for the day. So he’d keep this short and to the point.

“Captain, it’s Fin. Listen, sorry to call early, but I’ve got a lead and I need back-up if I’m gonna check it out.”

_“Go on.”_

“Remember Bullman? That son of a bitch who raped that thirteen year old kid earlier this year, then skipped out on us?”

_“Of course I remember. You and John worked that case into the ground ’til you had rock solid support for a warrant.”_

“Yeah, well, got a tip on where Bullman may be hiding out. Vacant warehouse up in Queens.” Fin gave him the exact address from last same-day. “We got a chance to finally nail this guy, but also I hear he’s not alone, and he’s definitely armed. I want some unis, patrol in place.”

_“I’ll take care of that. You need me to call in your partner to meet you there as well?”_

Fin didn’t pause; he’d figured the captain would ask this. “Already called Munch but he’s got food poisoning real bad.”

_“Terrific.”_

“Yeah, don’t ever order from the Eastern Fortune again.” Once they got out of this loop, Fin and John needed to buy a massive feast from this poor restaurant they’d been maligning almost every other day to get out of work.

_“I’ll see if Warrants can spare a body or two along with patrol. Call you back when I have an ETA, but do not go in there alone.”_

“I’m not planning on it. Oh, and tell them to avoid the L.I.E; heard on the radio there’s a bad accident. Queens Boulevard will get them quicker to the location.”

“Got it.”

Fin jumped in his car and sped off to the warehouse. Even though they hadn’t gotten the call from Cragen himself this morning, Fin wanted to find out if Bullman would still be there this same-day. Bullman and the fucker who’d attacked John, because this time around Fin was going to make sure they _both_ got taken in to custody.

If he didn’t take care of them otherwise first.

* * *

Fin made it to the warehouse in about twenty minutes, knowing which streets to avoid this time based on last same-day’s traffic patterns. He parked a block away, waiting on Cragen’s call back, so he could say where he’d rendezvous with the others. He was wired up but not nervous, more determined than anything else to see how this would play out.

Cragen called and let him know patrol was ten minutes away, so Fin put on his vest to get ready. Not that it would help if he ended up with a gun at his head, but he could do without inviting other injuries. Soon two cars pulled up, a pair of uniformed officers stepping out of one, a uni and someone who looked like a plain-clothed detective from the other. “Detective Nick Amaro, Warrants,” the man introduced himself, walking over to Fin.

“Odafin Tutuola, Manhattan SVU. Thanks for the back-up.”

Amaro nodded and said, “That’s what we’re here for.”

The unis introduced themselves next: McKinney, also from Warrants, along with Lange and Collins from the 106th. “Other cars are on alert in the area, if you think we need more support here,” Collins said.

“We should be all right, but that’s good to know.”

“So what’s the full story, who are we taking down?” Amaro asked.

“Suspect’s name is Roger Bullman. Child rapist who skipped out on a warrant several months ago. Lost the trail until I got a tip he’s been holed up here for a while. The warehouse is listed as owned by some development company out of Newark, but there’s no current tenant.”

“Any hostages or other individuals on site we should be aware of?” Lange wanted to know.

“Not to our knowledge. But Bullman likely has a friend or accomplice on hand.” Fin gave a quick physical description of John’s attacker. “Both men should be assumed to be armed and dangerous.”

“This is your collar,” Amaro said, “how do you want to proceed?”

“Let’s split up inside, but don’t get too far away from each other. I’ll take Lange; Amaro, you take McKinney. Collins, you stay here outside in case anybody tries to make a break for it.”

Everyone agreed to the plan and moved into action. While it was strange not having John at his side, Fin did have a good feeling about this Amaro guy. He seemed seriously-minded and focused on the job, and completely fine following Fin’s lead. That wasn’t always the case with cops from Warrants; some of them were all about having to make the bust themselves, being all bravado and brash—act first, think later.

 _Like Dani Beck_. _No wonder she couldn’t cut it in Special Victims._

Once inside, Fin motioned for Amaro to head left while he went right, retracing his steps from the day before. He remembered where he had come upon Bullman the last time, and he kept his gun drawn and raised as he turned one corner, then another.

Nothing.

No one was there.

Granted, their timing was slightly different from last same-day. He should have figured it would be too much to ask to find the man in the same exact spot. Or he might not have felt bold enough to come out seeing that Fin wasn _’_ t alone this time around. He continued onward, hearing the uni in step right behind him, knowing he would be covering their backs while Fin took the lead.

Fin was just turning to indicate to Lange that he would be heading right at the next corner when they both heard voices shouting, coming from the direction in which Fin had sent Amaro and McKinney. Both men started heading back in that direction, and then began to sprint when they heard shots fired.

“10-71, we have gunfire inside,” Lange called into the radio as they ran around one corner, then a second, before stopping short as they came upon the stand-off.

“Back off, motherfuckers!” Bullman screamed at them. “Back the _fuck_ off or else I’m blowing his motherfucking brains out.”

McKinney was on the floor. He looked like he’d been clipped in the arm, losing his weapon but not appearing critically wounded. Amaro stood unblinking, gun drawn and pointed right at Bullman some ten feet away. Fin observed all of this from his peripheral vision while he kept his main focus square on Bullman.

“Ain’t gettin’ out of here, Bullman. Got a warrant for your arrest, and now you’ve shot an officer. Give it up—you ain’t walking away from this otherwise.”

But where was the other guy?! That was the thought plaguing Fin’s racing mind, as he tried to keep his eyes trained on Bullman _and_ the dark corridors around them. He could be hiding behind any of the many boxes stacked around, or right behind any corner…

“Not going down on no stupid rape charge. I didn’t hurt no kid! Bitch wanted it and then tells me she’s thirteen? Fucking whore looked thirty!”

“Put the gun down, Bullman,” Amaro said, cool and steady. Fin kept watching Bullman, noting his frustration and anger, seeing his gun hand wavering as began to realize he had no way out, not when it was three to one. But then Fin caught Bullman’s gaze shifting to something further off behind them as he began to lower the gun. Fin spun around and sure enough, there was the other man, matching John’s description from the assault. Only today he didn’t have a baseball bat in hand; he held a gun and was moving to raise it to fire.

 _“Freeze!”_ Fin yelled, praying that Amaro would keep Bullman covered and not be distracted. The man didn’t, instead raising his gun as he charged toward the officers. Acting on pure instinct, Fin did the only thing he could to protect himself, and the others.

He fired.

The gunman went down as a round from his own weapon hit the air. It ricocheted off the walls as the gun flew from his hands. Everything happened in a blur: hearing Amaro screaming at Bullman, Collins bursting in…seeing Bullman on the ground and then in cuffs while Fin went to check on McKinney.

“You okay, brother?” Fin asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll call for the bus.”

Fin did, and he then walked over to the other body, staring up at him with lifeless eyes. Fin’s aim had been dead on: a single shot to the heart. Blood was soaking through his shirt and pooling out on the cement, and Fin knew he should feel something for taking a life, even the life of one who had been intent on ending his own.

But then he saw the peace sign tattoo the man’s hand, just as John had described, and he could feel nothing but a grim kind of satisfaction. This was the man who could have killed his partner last same-day. And now he was dead, and he’d never get the chance to do that again.

At least, Fin _hoped_ he never would.

* * *

John woke from his nap feeling significantly better than earlier that day. He was still achy and, lifting the covers, still covered in ugly bruises that were enough to make him surprised he hadn’t been _more_ badly injured than he was. But he could at last move around a bit, and breathe without every inhalation hurting his chest, which was a good and happy thing.

And Fin appeared to be correct; while they were stuck in this loop, their healing processes did seem sped up even if the day itself progressed at a normal—if repetitive—rate. It was a curious piece of physics at work—another part of the puzzle that John found intriguing. If he went back to his own apartment some night soon, he had a couple books to pull out on quantum physics and relativity, in case something might be worth investigating there.

Marmalade squeaked at him and pawed the air for his attention. He reached over to tickle her fat kitten belly as she tried to bite and swat at his fingers. “Least I’ve got some time to spend with you today, baby girl.” He felt guilty he hadn’t been with her that much the past couple same-days, but she seemed none the worse for it. He saw the small bottle of juice and plate of doughnuts Fin had left for him, along with a handwritten note:

_Sandwich in the fridge for you if you want it + are up for getting out of bed. If Batman needs to go for a walk, call my neighbor Mary, she works from home and has a dog herself. Call me if you need anything._

Mary’s phone number was at the bottom of the note. John smiled to himself. As sore as he was, it did feel nice having someone taking care of him like this, someone worried about his well-being. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d known what _that_ was like…maybe when he’d been a teenager, home sick from school for the day. None of his exes had been that, well… _concerned_ for anything other than what he could do for _them_ , not the other way around.

 _Why was that?_ he wondered idly, grabbing a doughnut and hoping that Fin wouldn’t get annoyed about crumbs in the bed. Had it been nothing but bad luck? Or had he mindlessly followed his eyes (and his sex drive) chasing pretty faces all those years, thinking with his dick instead of his brain?

Hell, thinking now with his dick _and_ his brain, he might as well marry Fin. The thought filled him with no small amount of amusement, and it did make a weird kind of sense. The sex was out of this world, and they had actually started this intimate relationship as an extension of their friendship.

He could just imagine Fin’s expression if he ever joked about tying the knot…so he tucked the thought away in his brain for the appropriate time to tease him with it.

Thinking of Fin, John reached—carefully—for his cellphone to see if there were any messages. Nothing, his phone had been blissfully quiet. But maybe it was time to see how his partner was making out with his day, now that he was awake.

* * *

At the 16th, Fin found himself with a whole fresh pile of paperwork to deal with that afternoon thanks to collaring Bullman—and shooting his associate. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, glad that at least come next same-day he wouldn’t have to deal with all _this_ again. He’d already gone over everything that had happened with Cragen, and was waiting for someone from IAB to interrogate him as well. He hoped it wouldn’t be Tucker; he wasn’t sure he could face the man again after the Batman and Catwoman incident without breaking into inappropriate laughter.

Cragen assured him the shoot would be ruled as clean, he would be fine. He’d be on mandatory desk duty until the IAB investigation was complete. That meant only until the end of today, Fin knew, unless somehow this incident broke the loop.

He didn’t feel guilty about killing that bastard. Not when he thought back on first seeing John at the hospital, realizing his injuries could have been so much worse—maybe even fatal—if the guy had hit John on the head with that baseball bat. Or if he had pulled a gun, like he had today.

Fin also wondered what the effects would be next same-day, assuming a reset happened. Would the man still be dead? Would he be alive? How did death work in this loop, particularly if either he or John were involved?

The vibration of his cell phone against his desk interrupted his brooding thoughts. Picking it up, he saw a message from John.

_Hey hon. How’s your day? Feeling better here._

Fin smiled. He never used to be one for pet names, but he and John had slipped into the habit since Fuck Day. It amused him, as a little private joke between them amidst this ongoing madness. Plus, for some reason it turned him on, too, especially when John used those words while talking filthy in his ear. **_Glad to hear it bb,_** he typed back. ** _Busy morning. Tell u tonight._**

Fin put the phone down and tried to return to his paperwork. A minute later the phone buzzed again.

_I’m bored. Wish u were here. Leave early?_

**_Sorry. Got real paperwork I need to do this afternoon. Not the usual bs._ **

_???_

**_Explain tonight. U rest for now._ **

_Yes sir._

Fin put aside his phone again. He really wanted to get this report on the morning’s events done before he forgot any specific details. Even if the day repeated tomorrow and none of this mattered, there was always the chance that it wouldn’t. And he didn’t want to get caught up in a suspicious death investigation that could affect his career.

The phone vibrated again. Fin sighed. If it was John again he should ignore it and get to work. But what if he actually needed something important? So he glanced down again.

_I like it when you boss me around like that. Turns me on._

**_If u don’t leave me alone I’ll never get this done. Then I won’t be able to do u tonight._ **

Fin put away his phone and heard Elliot cursing, “That’s fucking _it!_ I’ve had it! Something…son of a _bitch_!”

“Problem, El?” Olivia asked, looking up from her desk.

“Don’t you _smell_ it?”

“Smell what?”

“Something here…something near my desk…stinks like hell. It’s been driving me crazy all day and I can’t figure out what the fuck it is.”

Olivia sniffed the air and frowned. “You’re right. Something does smell a bit…ripe. I thought it was that bum we’ve got in the holding cell.”

“Maybe you stepped in some shit on the way in to work, El?” Fin offered. He’d almost forgotten about the baggie of Batman’s poop John had left in Elliot’s desk. That had been two same-days ago, and apparently it had remained exactly where he’d left it.

“It’s _not_ my shoes. Or my coat. Or my chair. But dammit, I’m going to find out what it is because I can’t take sitting here any more when it smells like a sewer in this place!”

 ** _U need some entertainment?_** Fin texted to John. **_Hold on, something to send u soon._**

Surreptitiously, Fin turned on his cell phone camera and set it to record. He propped it against a pile of folders so no one could see he was recording, while Elliot proceeded to rip his desk apart. He cursed as he tossed files around, lifted his chair to examine it from all angels, all while curious onlookers gave him a worried eye. Olivia looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and not come out again for several months.

“I don’t know you, El,” she said, hiding her face with one hand.

Elliot started flinging open the drawers of his desk, scattering pens, notepads, and more files everywhere. “I’m telling you, something…oh what the—”

Not only did Elliot find the bag of dogshit John had left in his file drawer, but he grabbed it with such force that he ripped it open, getting the two-day-old and quite odiferous poop all over his hand. “Shit” was just one of the curses that followed. Fin only felt sorry for Olivia, who looked like she was ready to loose her lunch.

The rest of the squadroom seemed to find it as hilarious as Fin did.

“It’s not fucking funny!” Elliot shouted, holding up his hand so he didn’t spread the mess further. “I’m gonna find out which one of you thought this would make a good joke. And then I’m going to kick your ass!”

“Elliot, it’s got to be a prank, lighten up—Hey!” Olivia objected as he moved to wipe his shit-stained hand on her desk.

“Oh, it’s a prank and I should lighten up until someone does it to _you_ , huh?”

“What is God’s name is going on here?”

The captain’s voice cut through the fracas in the bullpen and a deathly silence fell upon the room. But it wasn’t just from getting caught by “dad”, oh no. Lieutenant Ed Tucker stood next to the captain, taking in the scene of Elliot waving a shit-stained hand in his partner’s face, his desk a mess, and looking like a complete madman.

 _Damn,_ Fin thought, barely able to restrain his laughter. _John is going to love this._

The priceless tableau made Fin glad Tucker _was_ the one to come from IAB to talk to him about the morning’s events. It made John’s prank absolute perfection.

“Sorry, ah, Captain, Lieutenant, it’s not…I can explain…” Elliot began to stammer and Cragen put up his hand to halt him.

“I don’t care, Detective. Just…clean yourself up, get your act together, and for the love of God, wash your hands.”

Fin stopped recording and began the upload process to send the video to John. Duly chastised, Elliot made a swift line for the bathroom. Fin breathed in to collect himself before standing to greet Cragen and Tucker. Normally he’d be nervous as hell about having to deal with IAB, but not today. He wanted to get this over with, so he could get home to John.

And hear what he had to say about that video, once he saw it.

“Detective Tutuola,” Tucker started. “Normally an interview such as this would be best held at my office. But as I was already here today for other matters, so shall we move things along?”

“Sure,” Fin agreed.

“You can wait for your union rep to arrive, or—”

“No, it’s fine. I got nothing to hide or be guilty about. Let’s do this.”

* * *

Fin made it home about eight that evening. He’d decided to pick up some take-out tonight to keep things easy. With the day he’d had, he wasn’t up for cooking anything even if John seemed to enjoy his modest creations in the kitchen.

The interview with Tucker had gone fine. As Fin had known, he’d done everything by the book that morning. Amaro and the other officers had corroborated his story completely. The official report would be clean, and so was his conscience. For once Tucker seemed to be on their side, Fin had to grudgingly admit. He was just doing his job, too, ensuring the department wouldn’t be dealing with any recriminations or scandal after a shooting incident such as this one.

And hell, it had been glorious to have Tucker there to witness Elliot’s meltdown, rub some extra salt in that wound. John’s texts in response to the video had kept Fin entertained for the rest of the day until he’d been able to get in his car and head home.

Fin found John stretched out on the sofa with a book, Marmalade perched on the arm rest next to him and Batman curled up at his feet. The puppy jumped up with a bark to come running over to Fin, while John put down his book and smiled at him.

“Hey, buddy,” Fin greeted Batman, then walked over to give John a kiss. “Hey, babe. How come you’re out of bed?”

“Got bored and I was feeling better. Enough to move around a little bit, at least. But don’t worry, I didn’t venture farther than the kitchen for my lunch. And then your bookcase to find something interesting to read. What’s for dinner?”

“Chinese. Don’t think we’ve done that for a few nights. Got you some egg drop soup and mu shu. Though it’d go down easy if you still weren’t feeling good.”

“Yummy.” John moved with care to sit up. Fin noticed he was still wincing at the effort, so he still had some way to go before a full recovery. “So what happened today, anyway?” John asked.

“Hold on, let me get some silverware. And a beer. You want one?”

“Sure.”

“I should take Batman a walk, too, then we’ll eat.”

“Actually I called your neighbor Mary over a couple hours ago. He was really starting to whine. She took him out, so he should be good for now unless you want to take him out one more time later tonight.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Fin got a few things from the kitchen, then sat down on the sofa next to John who was unpacking the take-out onto the coffee table. Batman was checking out the food as well and even Marmalade’s tiny nose sniffed the air. Fin opened the container of fried dumplings, stabbed one with his fork, and devoured it in two quick bites.

“Shit load of food here, Fin. Planning on feeding an army?”

“Skipped lunch. Everything on the menu sounded good.”

“Going to finally tell me what went on with you all day?”

Fin went for another dumpling, pausing to swirl it in some dipping sauce first. “I went back to the warehouse for Bullman.”

John nearly choked on his mouthful of soup. “You did _what?!_ On your own?!”

“’Course not, calm yourself. I called Cragen for back-up first. Told ’em how to avoid the traffic accident this time and waited until they arrived. They also sent over this guy from Warrants to assist, and he was solid. Don’t give me that look,” Fin chastised John. “I wanted to test a theory, all right? See if Bullman and the bastard who beat you up were still there, even if we didn’t get a call this morning. Bust both of them this time around.” Fin paused for a sip of his beer. “Anyway, Bullman _was_ there again today, along with the other guy, turns out his name is Wilkes. Was.”

“…Was?”

Fin sighed. “This time around he didn’t use a bat. He pulled a gun, was ready to shoot and Bullman had already clipped one of the unis. I _had_ to take him out. He wouldn’t drop his weapon when I told him to.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Fin. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Trust me, ain’t sheddin’ no tears for that waste of space after what he did to you yesterday. Last same-day.”

“Only he didn’t do it. Yet. Not _this_ today.”

“Those bruises are still there, John. And what if he’d killed one of the other officers today? Or me? We don’t know how death works in this time loop yet. Maybe he’ll be back tomorrow…maybe not.”

“Another ‘theory’ to test out?”

There was a note of sarcasm in John’s voice that put Fin on edge after an already rough day. “Yeah. So? Don’t know why you’re so worked up about this. I had reason to shoot him. Wasn’t in cold blood like—” Fin stopped himself, taking another drink of his beer.

“—like what I did years ago. You can say it.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to go down that road.”

“No. I’m sorry for giving you shit on a rough day.”

Fin nodded in acceptance of John’s apology. “Hey speaking of shit, how ’bout Elliot?”

“I laughed so hard I nearly hurt myself again. That was priceless. I only wish I could save the video to re-watch tomorrow, but I’m sure it will be gone by then. Of course, we’ll always have the memories.”

“And Elliot may never get the smell of dogshit out of his desk.”

“How appropriate. In any event, that’s enough talk of excrement while I’m trying to enjoy dinner. Let’s see how much of this smorgasbord we can manage to eat.”

They made a valiant effort, given that based on past nights’ experience their leftover meals did not remain in the fridge for the next day. “Why the dog and cat food we buy stays behind but not our own, I can’t figure that out,” John said.

“Another mystery I’ve added to our growing list. What day are we up to now, anyway?”

“Fourteen. I put today on the list as ‘Bedrest’.”

Fin nodded. “That’s two weeks we’ve been living this same Friday over and over again. Seems longer than that.”

“One day or two weeks…however you look at it, a lot of things have happened.”

“True,” Fin had to agree. Two weeks ago, he’d been accustomed to Friday nights at home alone with the television and his video games, if he wasn’t stuck late at work. Now he had a dog, now he had, well…John, _here._ And he’d barely made it through last night’s sleep on the sofa instead of in what had become John’s company in bed. “Maybe that’s something we’re supposed to be learnin’ from allthis, you think? Getting out of the routine, making the most of every day.”

“I don’t know what I think anymore, to be honest. Is there even a key to getting out of this loop, or are we going to be stuck here forever? Until one or both of us _do_ die?”

Fin didn’t like John talking about death. Not after today, not after his severe beating last same-day. Not after that night he’d gone over to John’s and found him with a gun in hand, looking more lost and hopeless than he’d ever seen him. Death seemed too close to his partner’s daily thoughts and actions, and that bothered Fin. He shifted closer to John on the sofa, putting an arm around his shoulders and nuzzling against his neck. “It ain’t the worst day to be stuck on, though. We got each other, we got this. Lots of things we haven’t done and maybe now’s the chance to do ’em since we ain’t got to worry about tomorrow.”

“Start some kind of time-loop day bucket list? Hmm.” John turned his head to meet Fin’s lips for a kiss, one that sent a bolt of desire straight to Fin’s dick. He’d lived a celibate life for so long, now it was difficult to go more than twenty-four hours without having sex.

Fin could tell the heat of his desire was equally met, but he still fretted over John’s healing injuries. “Want to take you to bed, but don’t want to hurt you.”

“As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you a favor tonight.”

“Anything, babe.”

“Help me in the shower?” John said. “Haven’t had one since the day before last same-day. Was afraid of getting dizzy if I tried to take one by myself earlier.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Fin kissed John again, slipping a hand into his hair. Thinking about getting naked and wet with him again was no hardship. “Let me toss out the leftovers before the pets get into them and give Batman that quick walk.” He had a feeling if he didn’t do that now he’d have no energy or enthusiasm for it later.

“I’ll be waiting right here.”

Fin dealt with the trash, then took Batman on a speedy trip around the block. The puppy had already marked his favorite fire hydrants and street lamps in the area, and their scent apparently remained day after same-day based on his satisfaction upon sniffing and relieving himself. Back at the apartment, Fin helped John up off the sofa and led him to the bathroom. He turned on the water to give it a few minutes to warm up, using the time to get in a few more kisses, becoming all worked up over getting naked with John again.

John started moving to pull off his t-shirt but Fin stopped him. “No, I’ll do that for you. Takin’ care of you tonight.”

“Oh, please.”

Fin shed his own clothing first, tossing it into an unceremonious pile on the tile floor. He liked the way John looked at him, lust clear in his hungry gaze. He hadn’t felt so desirable in such a long time, fretting as he’d hit his forties and found his former muscular build growing a touch soft. But John didn’t seem to mind. Undressed, he moved on to his partner, who had put on one of Fin’s old t-shirts for the day along with a pair of sweatpants.

“You’re drowning in my clothes,” Fin said. Though something about seeing John in them was a turn-on in its own right.

“Forgot to bring over anything lounge-worthy.” John grimaced as he raised his arms, so that Fin could lift the shirt up over him. It was Fin’s turn to grimace, then, seeing the bruises and marks all over John’s chest and abdomen.

“Still pretty ugly?”

“Yeah. You sure you’re up for this?”

“Sure that I’m sick of feeling grungy.” The sweatpants were tied tightly about John’s narrow waist, and fell to the floor easily once Fin undid the knot. Fin took John’s hand to lead him into the shower, stepping up over the rim of the bathtub and making sure he didn’t slip.

“Wish this tub was bigger and we could take a nice hot bath,” Fin said. He pulled John against him with care, mindful of his injuries.

“We should spend the night in a fancy hotel one of these evenings. Splurge on a penthouse suite with a whirlpool…”

“Mmm, that would be nice.” Fin put that idea away for later. Right now he was happy to kiss John beneath the hot water spray, growing painfully hard and full of desire as their bodies made contact. “Hair or body first?” he asked, before picking up either the shampoo or the shower gel.

“Hair. I can—”

“No you can’t. Saw you make a face when you raised your arms. Let me take care of you,” Fin insisted, grabbing the shampoo and pouring a small amount into his hand. John dutifully turned around, which gave Fin a chance to see the bruises on his back as well.

“Shit, babe. Hate seein’ you like this.”

“It no doubt looks worse than it feels.”

“If you say so. But tell me if I’m hurting you at all.” Fin worked the shampoo into John’s hair, massaging his scalp with his fingers. At least there were no bruises _there_ , Fin thought grimly, which gave him some excuse to be extra sensual with his touch. John made small sounds of happy approval until Fin tilted the shower head to rinse the soap away. He then repeated his actions with the conditioner.

Fin moved on to the shower gel, very lightly rubbing some onto John’s shoulders, the areas of his back and arms not discolored with bruises. His hands reached John’s backside and he had to quip, “Least I can give you a good groping tonight, if nothin’ else.”

“That’s all?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Turn around.”

John did, revealing to Fin that he definitely was in the mood for more than just kissing and washing up in the shower. Hell, Fin was more than in the mood for it, too. He got more shower gel on his hands and lathered up John’s sides, his stomach, and then went for his erection.

“Mmm.”

Fin could barely stand it—John’s eyes closed, his head arched back under the shower spray, exposing his neck, his dick so hard and tempting in Fin’s hand. He let the water rinse away the soap and then told John, “Hold steady,” as he lowered himself to his knees.

“What are you do— _ooooh_ ,” John finished with a groan as Fin took him into his mouth and began sucking. Fin had missed getting his taste of John this morning, licking him, swirling his tongue and hearing him moan in appreciation. He held John steady, one hand on his ass, rubbing and squeezing as he worked over his cock. John held admirably still for him, hips only bucking slightly as Fin pulled back, then swallowed him deep as he could.

“Oh, _fuck_ that feels good.”

“Mm hmm,” Fin murmured around John’s erection, agreeing wholeheartedly with his sentiment. Having John in this position made it easy to reach around and slip one slick finger inside him while he kept sucking, aching to have his way with that ass again.

It didn’t take John long; in a few minutes he was cursing and crying out, his seed filling Fin’s eager mouth, salty and hot. Fin kept at it until he was satisfied John had nothing left for him, then rose to his feet, finding that mouth for more kisses.

“Like that, baby?”

“Every time. Now...what can I do for you?”

Fin considered, as best as he could when his mind was filled with how good it felt to rub up against John and how much he needed to come. He did have an idea, though, and said, “Turn around.”

“Oooh.”

“Don’t get that excited. I ain’t gonna fuck you…yet.” He knew he wouldn’t be able to take it gentle and slow like John needed. He poured a generous amount more shower gel into his hand, using it to lather up John’s lower back and backside. He put his hands on John’s hips and pressed close against him, sighing just to rub his aching hard erection against that sweet, hard backside. Sliding against the cleft between his cheeks felt damn good, maybe not as intense as sinking inside of him but more than enough right now to get Fin off. The soap made their skin so slippery, and he tried to look past the bruises to appreciate the lean muscles of John’s back taut and straining as he gripped the shower walls. The way his hair looked, all wet. The water running down his skin in tempting trails that Fin wanted to lean close and lick, drink it all down.

Jesus, he was going to come before he’d even really begun to enjoy himself. The need was too intense after today, and with the way it felt to grind and slide against this body. He felt his orgasm building quickly and didn’t try to hold back, even though he wanted to enjoy it longer. He pressed hard against John, rubbing and moaning until he came, the sensation more intense than he ever thought it could be from this kind of stimulation.

Fin slipped his arms about John’s waist, pulling him close, tenderly, just needing to hold him. John’s arms fell over his own, and he sighed as Fin kissed the back of his neck and shoulders. “You good, hon?” John asked

“Mm, yeah. Real good. Didn’t hurt you did I?”

“A few aches and pains are worth it.”

Eventually Fin let go to turn off the water and grab a few towels, drying John off first and then taking care of himself.

“Pampering like this? I should get beaten up more often,” John quipped as Fin then went to dry John’s hair.

“Shut up, John.”

“Yes, my dear.”

Soon they ended up in bed, John insisting that he was perfectly fine with having Fin with him tonight. Fin wasn’t about to protest the matter very much.

“What should we do tomorrow—I mean, next same-day?” Fin asked.

“If I’m up for it, let’s have some real fun. You deserve it after the last two days.”

“You have anything in mind?”

“Oh I have a few ideas. Had a lot of time today to plan and scheme.”

“Plan and scheme what—or do I want to know?”

John yawned. “You’ll find out in the morning. Good night, hon.”

“’Night, babe.” Fin turned off the light, wondering for a moment exactly what could be in John’s devious mind. But he was too tired now to think about it for long before drifting off into a deep and satisfying sleep.


	15. Treating Kathy, Pranking Elliot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has an idea to get back at Elliot this same-day, while treating Kathy and a friend to a relaxing afternoon off. But will his plan go too far and backfire on both him and Fin?

**Day 15**

John woke up to the alarm this time, not earlier, but he didn’t oversleep like he had the day before. Fin slapped it off and threw the covers aside, taking a careful look at John’s body to see how he was healing up.

His bruises had faded significantly from the day before, and John was smiling up at him. “Hey, hon,” he said, running a hand down Fin’s arm. “I’m fine.”

“You still ain’t lookin’ too good,” Fin said, ghosting his fingers over bruises still yellow and looking tender.

“My rib doesn’t hurt, and I’m not really in pain today,” John said. “Bit sore, but it’s not anywhere as bad as it was yesterday. You were right; we do heal faster in the loop. I’m fine. Especially if you wanna have some fun.” He waggled his eyebrows at Fin.

“Hmm. You said somethin’ about takin’ another day off? I hope you’re not thinking of a fuck day again, I ain’t up for that yet.”

“No, not that. I have a plan,” John said. “Told you we’re gonna fuck up Elliot now. Decking you like that and thinking you could rape me? The bastard deserves it.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, Kathy’s probably run ragged trying to take care of Eli without Elliot around much, and I doubt he pampers her. I’m thinking she gets a nice spa day and we take little Eli off her hands, take him somewhere fun. Central Park, maybe—there’s the zoo, the sailboats… We could bring Batman, too. Marmalade will be okay at home alone, but Batman’s still being trained.”

“How does pamperin’ Elliot’s wife and son fuck him up?” Fin asked, skeptical. “I mean, I got no objection to givin’ Kathy a nice time—I doubt _he_ does, you’re right—and Eli’s a good kid, surprisin’ with that father. But givin’ them a good time ain’t gonna fuck Elliot up.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on _telling_ Elliot we gave Kathy a day off and took his son. You think he deserves a few hours panic about where they could be? I know a spa that has a strict no cellphones policy—you’re supposed to be _relaxing_ there—so he won’t be able to reach her. And he’ll never suspect _we_ took his kid for a fun day. Doesn’t hurt them, but it freaks Elliot out.”

Fin had to restrain himself from kissing John hard—they hadn’t brushed their teeth yet. “You have the best ideas, baby,” he said. “Yeah, that prick deserves a few hours complete panic.” His face grew serious.

“What’s up?” John asked.

“I did wanna check if that bastard I shot yesterday stayed dead,” Fin said.

“Well, we can send Elliot off on that wild goose chase,” John said. “Think he’d enjoy meeting that nice guy out of Warrants you were telling me about?”

“Those two would get along like oil and water,” Fin said with a wicked grin. He reached over and pulled John into a hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You really wanna fuck him up, don’t you?”

“He deserves everything we can come up with and more,” John said grimly, running his hand down Fin’s jaw. “That still hurt?”

“Nah, baby, it’s fine. Ghost of an ache, but it ain’t bad and it doesn’t feel bruised.”

“Good,” John said, pressing a kiss to the other side of Fin’s jaw, just in case. “We need to go in. I want to steal Elliot’s cell phone again, to set up our alibi in case this comes back down on us.”

“What do you mean?” Fin asked.

“Well, I don’t _actually_ want us charged with kidnapping or getting in trouble with Cragen, in case for some reason this day doesn’t reset. So I’m going to put it on silent and call it several times, leave at least one message,” John explained. “In case anyone wonders if we tried to warn Elliot. Have Kathy call him, too. Then we’ll slip it back into his desk…or even better, somewhere in his house. As if he forgot to bring it into work.”

Fin grinned widely. “You’re a fuckin’ genius, John. You thought of everything.”

“Had enough time to plan yesterday. So…you up for a quickie before we go?”

“You really are the dick monster.”

“Hey, now, it’s been way too long since I’ve had that gorgeous dick in me,” John protested, getting Fin riled up with his dirty talk already. “Haven’t you missed this bony, tight ass?”

“Oh _hell_ yes,” Fin said, pushing John back into the bed. “I can’t get enough of that ass, baby. You sure you’re fine?”

“Mmhmm, only way I’m not gonna _be_ fine is if you _don’t fuck my ass now, Fin_.”

“Okay, okay!” Fin laughed. He pressed a kiss to John’s neck, then took a gentle bite. John inhaled sharply, arching up against Fin.

“Do that again,” John begged. “Love it when you do that.”

Fin bit down again, slightly lower, then sucked hard.

 _“Motherfucker, please_ ,” John begged. “Need you so bad, Fin, fuck me already, want your dick in me, God, that dick, love it so much, you’re so good, please Fin, now.”

“Damn you’re eager today,” Fin said, laughing. He pulled away from John for a moment to reach for the lube.

John spread his legs eagerly and moaned as Fin slipped a slick finger in him. “Ohhh fuck, Fin, God, how have I spent so long with you without letting you fuck me?”

“Fuck, baby, I dunno, been wonderin’ that myself. Your ass is fuckin’ sinful, babe, and I wanna fuck it so bad.”

He slid another finger in, stretching John carefully. He knew John said he was fine, but he still didn’t like the way John looked today. Yes, the bruises were yellow today, but they were still there, and he was determined to be careful.

“Fuck it, Fin, I’m not gonna break. Fuck me, slide in and fuck me hard, I want a hard fuck again, Fin, stop treating me like I’m made of spun glass, I’m _fine_ , I told you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” Fin said, sliding a third finger in.

“I’m not gonna settle for anything other than you fucking me like your fucking life depends on it, hon,” John said firmly. “I want you to pound me into the mattress so hard I’m gonna have trouble walking today. And if you can’t do that, I’m gonna flip us over and ride your dick like there’s no tomorrow.”

“There _is_ no tomorrow,” Fin said dryly.

“You know what I meant.”

“And that’s a _hot_ image. We’ll do that next time,” Fin added. “Fine, I’ll fuck you hard, but you tell me if it hurts.”

“Fin, I’m not into… okay, fine, I’m into _some_ pain, but rib pain isn’t one of them.”

Fin looked curiously at John, pulling his fingers out and slicking his dick. “Yeah, like what?”

John bit his lip. “Never mind, forget I said that.”

“No, tell me.”

“I feel weird about it ever since working SVU.”

“If SVU taught me anythin’, babe, it’s that you can safely enjoy kinks. It’s when they get out-of-control that it’s bad. Look, even hardcore shit can be safe and fun as long as everyone’s consentin’, ’cause some people are into that, right? And missionary can be bad when one person says ‘no’. I haven’t tried a whole lot myself ’cause… well, long dry spells and my ex wasn’t the adventurous type. But I’m pretty open-minded, and I never figured you for a vanilla guy, anyway. So what turns your crank?”

John snorted. “A shorter list would be what _doesn’t_ , but I was thinking of spanking when I said I enjoy a bit of pain.”

“Mmmm, well now, we’ll definitely have to try that. I ain’t ever spanked anyone before.”

John pulled him down for a kiss, then broke it and made a face. “Fuck, I hate morning breath, but it was worth it. Now fucking fuck me already, I’m sick of this soul-searching shit.”

Fin pressed into John slowly, knowing John wanted a hard fuck, but determined to let John at least adjust to his dick first. John swore a blue streak as Fin’s dick entered and stretched him, all of it encouragement.

“ _Fuck me already_ ,” John demanded, pulling at Fin’s ass.

“Jesus, you’re a pushy bottom,” Fin grumbled, pulling out and slamming back in. John howled in delight and wrapped his legs around Fin, pulling him in deeper at the end of every thrust.

Fin set a hard, fast pace, delighted in John’s eager response. John was arching into him, rubbing his hard dick against Fin’s stomach. Fin could feel precome on his stomach and it was turning him on. He wanted to make John come, a good, hard orgasm first thing in the morning, then maybe another round tonight.

He wrapped a hand around John’s dick and stroked in time with his thrusts, trying not to listen to John, who had lapsed into another language again. Fucking hell, John _knew_ how much that got Fin going. Fin _was_ pounding John into the mattress, just as John wanted, and he was stroking hard, trying to get John off before he came. They were racing each other to the finish lane—a backward race, both of them trying to make the other come first.

They came together, neither technically able to tell who came first, John coming with a scream and arching off the bed, coating Fin’s hand, while Fin came with a strangled moan and erratic thrusts into John. It felt _so fucking good_ , John had been right about a hard fuck.

Fin finally pulled out and asked with worry, “Are you okay, baby?”

John stretched and murmured satedly, “Mmm, I’m wonderful. God, you fuck like an _animal_ , I fucking love it. You sure you don’t wanna stay in bed all day and fuck?”

“My dick still hasn’t recovered from Fuck Day,” Fin said. “Besides, you’re looking forward to fucking Elliot up.”

* * *

“Okay, so you’re clear on the plan?” John asked.

“Yes, and it’s genius,” Fin said as they walked into the precinct, Batman on his leash with him. “You thought of everything.”

John looked around—Elliot was at the coffee machine, predictably, and ’Liv was hard at work at her files.

As they walked by Elliot’s desk, John casually swiped the phone, setting it to silent. It was easy, too, with everyone distracted by Batman, retelling the story of adopting him, that’s why they were a few minutes late. He and Fin sat down at their desks, waiting for Cragen’s paperwork command. They had a good feeling today was another paperwork day, and they had agreed that if it wasn’t, they would play out the case instead. Plenty of time to do the Kathy and Eli plan another day, and a case could give more clues about the loop.

Three minutes later, on schedule, Cragen came out and said, “You two, there’s always paperwork,” right on cue.

“Yes, Cap,” Fin said immediately, pulling a file towards himself, over his phone.

“Is that a Special Victim I should know about?” he asked, pointing at Batman who was already acting as if the bullpen was a second, comfy home. Fin told the story about adopting him, the captain nodded and wandered off.

“Ten,” John said.

“Gotcha,” Fin said, working on the file from memory.

Ten minutes later, he hit the call button.

John’s phone went off. He picked it up. “Munch,” he declared. “Yes? What’s wrong with him? Is he going to be okay?” He paused, as if listening. “Uh-huh. No way to tell yet?” Again he paused. Cragen came out of his office at Fin’s signal. “You need me there? Now? …Medical decisions to make?” Another pause. “Yes, I understand I’m his proxy. Yes, I’ll be right there. Thank you.”

He hung up, and Fin slid his phone back into his pocket. John acted distraught.

“What’s going on?” Cragen asked.

“Munch?” Fin added.

John ran a hand through his hair. “It’s my uncle Andrew,” he said, sounding distracted. “He had a fall and they’re not sure the extent of injuries yet. I need to get over there, I’m his medical power of attorney if any decisions need to be made.” He got up and grabbed his coat.

“Whoa, John, you’re in no state to drive,” Fin insisted. “Cap, okay if I take him?”

“Of course. You two only had paperwork anyway. I hope your uncle’s okay, John, and don’t worry about coming back in today, either of you.”

“Thanks.”

John started heading out, and Cragen grabbed Fin for a second. “Take care of him, Fin.”

“Will do, Captain.”

Fin’s desk phone started ringing. “Fuck,” Fin swore. He picked it up, listening intently. “Yes, yes, I got the address. … Presumed armed? … A second person? Okay, yes, thank you.”

“What was that about?” Cragen asked.

“Remember Bullman?” Fin said, signaling to John to wait one minute. John nodded, slipping his phone back in his pocket, his fake call to Fin completed.

“A little hard to forget him,” Cragen said dryly.

“Got a tip where he’s been hiding out. Abandoned warehouse in Queens with a partner, both of them armed. Someone should go over and check it out, but, uh, Captain, I still don’t think Munch can drive himself.”

“No, no, I’ll send Elliot.”

“I wouldn’t send him alone,” Fin said worriedly.

Cragen nodded. “Olivia needs to work with Huang this afternoon on a suspect interview. So, I’ll call Warrants and get a couple of unis from the nearest precinct for backup. Don’t worry about it. Go drive Munch to the hospital.”

Fin went to join John. “That went almost too easy,” he said as they left the building with Batman. “Both fake phone calls went off without a hitch.”

“That’s what happens when you plan. And look.” John held up his prize triumphantly, wiggling Elliot’s cellphone.

“Your plan is flawless,” Fin praised, giving him a quick kiss in the empty elevator.

* * *

Rush hour had passed and that made for a quick drive out to Queens to the Stabler home—at least, quicker than it would be later in the day when all the commuters were heading out of Manhattan. They knew Kathy was working part-time from home these days until Eli was ready to start preschool. So that made it easier to pick her up without the possibility of letting anyone else in on their plan. Fin took the wheel while John made a call to the spa he wanted to book for Kathy, making sure they had a last-minute appointment available.

“We’re all set,” he said, once he finished his call. “She’ll get the full six-hour treatment, plus the spa dinner package. By the time Kathy’s done, and _we’re_ done, we won’t be getting her and Eli home until near on eight o’clock, if not later.”

“So where is this spa located, anyway?”

“Upper East Side, off Madison Avenue around 70th. We can drop Kathy off there, then head straight over to the park. All goes well we should be there by noon and we can have a nice afternoon with Eli.”

“Sounds good,” Fin agreed. “But y’know, there are a couple things about this plan of yours I ain’t sure about, more that I think things over.” As much as it had seemed “genius” when John had first gone through it all, now Fin was having some, well, not _second_ _thoughts_ , but concerns.

“Go on.”

“How do _we_ know that _Elliot_ will know Kathy is ‘missing’? We finish up with her around eight, ain’t no guarantees Stabler’d be heading home by then the way this job goes.”

“Already thought of that. Every same-day so far we’ve been on the job, he went home at an early hour: about five o’clock, since it was a Friday and none of us had a major case brewing. And I also noticed Elliot on the phone a lot with Kathy every one of these days. His desk line—you know he’s not running up minutes on his cell when he can make personal calls from work for free.”

Fin snorted at that. “Anyway. Something about a baby shower for her sister this weekend. They were already at it this same-day before we left. No doubt once he finishes with the warehouse and returns to the 16th, he’ll be expecting it to start up again. Maybe even waiting to see what messages are waiting for him—but there won’t be any. Not from Kathy, at least. That should give him pause for concern. Especially when he looks around for his cell to check, too, and realizes he doesn’t have it.” John mused for a moment and said, “We can figure some reason to hold them both up in the city a little longer—a trip to FAO Schwarz, perhaps. I’m sure Eli could spend _hours_ there.”

“All right. Then what about the fake story with your uncle?” Fin asked. “How we gonna play that out when instead of going to the hospital, we end up at Central Park with Eli?”

“We were on our way uptown when I got another call. ‘Terrible mistake, we’re so sorry, there was a patient mix-up and your uncle wasn’t the one who fell’. After you listened to me scream at incompetent nurse for a solid ten minutes and threaten the hospital with multiple lawsuits, you decided you needed to take me out for a personal day to calm down. We decided to treat Kathy and Eli to a nice day, too. How were we to know Elliot would be an idiot and misplace his cellphone?” John shrugged, putting on all innocence. “And we knew he was out on the hunt for Bullman so we didn’t try his desk number.”

“You really _can_ be an evil genius sometimes, Munch.”

“I try my best. Hey, you know, while we’re treating people who deserve it today, I’m going to see if I can rustle up some company for Kathy.” John called the spa again to see if they had room for two, then started typing a text message.

“Who are you inviting along?” Fin asked, curious.

“You’ll see, if she’s available. I’ll have her meet us at the spa if she is.”

“It’s a good thing our bank balances and credit cards reset every same-day.”

“If they didn’t I’d steal Stabler’s. Hey, good idea for another day, you think?”

“I think one planned torment is definitely enough for today.”

* * *

Kathy was indeed home, and at first not at all happy to see John and Fin at her door.

In fact her face paled when she saw them and she gasped, “Oh my God, it’s not…did something happen to Elliot?”

“No no no, Elliot’s fine,” John relieved her anxious thoughts as quick as he could, reaching out to steady her. “We’re sorry to even make you think that for a moment.”

“We’re here for _you_ today, Kathy,” Fin continued. “You and Eli.”

“Oh,” she breathed in relief, and then repeated more in a puzzled tone, “Oh? About what?”

“We had the day off and thought you could use the same,” John explained. “We hear you’ve been frantic planning a party for your sister, so today it’s _your_ turn for pampering. Our treat. We’ll show Eli a fun afternoon in the city, take him to Central Park and the Children’s Zoo, while you get to relax.” He described the spa package he’d signed her up for: massage, facial, manicure, make-up and hair makeover, the works. “Another friend of mine will be joining you there, so you’ll have a companion for dinner as well. I think you’ll enjoy her company.”

Kathy looked completely blown away. “I…I don’t know what to say! I don’t think I’ve been to a spa since, well… _ever_ ,” she admitted. “And all I’ve been hearing this week from El is grief about the party on Sunday. Wait a minute…are you _sure_ he didn’t set you guys up for this?”

“No, ma’am. And just say yes,” Fin said, smiling a little bit himself. It was fun to surprise people with something good like this, seeing the unexpected delight on her face. It almost made him guilty that they had any ulterior motives behind their act of kindness.

“Okay, yes! Yes! Let me grab a few things first—for Eli—and pack up his stroller. Oh, when do you think we’ll be done tonight? Elizabeth is staying over at a friend’s house, and Dickie, well... He _says_ he’s going to the movies with his friend Shane. I hope that’s all they’ll be up to.”

“Around seven, eight o’clock tonight, I’d imagine.”

“All right, Dickie won’t be home until closer to midnight I’m sure. But I should call Elliot, let him know I’ll be out. He worries so much if he can’t reach me, even for a few hours.”

“Call his cell—he’s out in the field, might not be back in the office until much later,” John told her. “Oh! And you should probably leave your cellphone here. The salon has a strict policy about no phone interruptions during sessions. They do have lockers, but…” he trailed off and shrugged. “Can’t always trust them to be secure.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Honestly between Elliot and my sister’s friends, I’ll be happy to get away from the phone for a while.”

She started dashing around to gather toddler things off the living room floor. John asked, “Do you mind if I use the bathroom while we have a few minutes?”

“Go ahead, it’s there to your right.”

“Thank you.”

John slipped away and Fin waited while Kathy bustled about. After a few minutes John returned and quietly said, now that Kathy had run upstairs get Eli’s coat and sneakers, “I left a message on Elliot’s cell phone about us leaving with Kathy now. Not that, of course, he’ll get it. There was a laundry bin in the bathroom so I shoved his phone in a shirt pocket, in there.”

“Like I said before: evil genius,” Fin said, shaking his head.

* * *

Elliot parked around the corner from the warehouse address Cragen had given him, and waited for his backup to arrive. He fidgeted and let out an annoyed sigh, rolling his shoulders and trying to loosen up. He needed to get ready for whatever happened next.

But he wasn’t in the mood for this today. He understood John having a family emergency, and Bullman was a disgusting prick who needed to be behind bars. But still…this wasn’t _his_ case. As far as he was concerned, Warrants could handle this whole situation if John and Fin couldn’t today. He had his own case load to deal with—and his wife wasn’t making things easier with this stupid baby shower on Sunday.

 _“I don’t see why you couldn’t have the party at a restaurant nearby. Isn’t that what a lot of people do these days?”_ he’d complained this morning over a rushed breakfast.

_“People who have money to rent out a private room or banquet hall for the afternoon, sure! But do you know how expensive that is? Face it, El. You just don’t like the idea of your quiet Sunday at home being interrupted by a bunch of women eating cupcakes and playing ‘Bobbing for Nipples’.”_

_“…and sitting around oohing and aahing over a Diaper Genie. Guilty as charged.”_

_“So spend the day with one of the guys from work. Or visiting your eldest daughter at school.”_

_“Yeah, I’m sure spending the day with dad is at the top of Maureen’s priority list right now.”_

He knew he was being whiny about it, but it felt like he never had time to unwind these days. And next weekend was going to be Halloween, which meant he was likely to get fucked over with work—people _always_ got into stupid shit on Halloween. All he wanted to do was watch some football and relax on his rarely-enjoyed sofa.

But, duty to the job came first, he knew. He did think about calling Kathy again while he waited, see if she’d made any progress getting some extra folding chairs from the neighbors. If not he needed to check around at work. Then he remembered another cause of current aggravation: he hadn’t been able to find his cell phone before leaving the precinct, even when he tried calling it from his desk phone. He hated being without it, in case of emergencies with the kids.

 _I'll call as soon as I get done with this,_ he told himself. And ask her if by any chance she’d seen his phone around the house so he could stop worrying about _that_.

Soon two police cruisers pulled up to join him and he got out to meet the officers. Three of the men were in uniform, one in plain clothes. Elliot introduced himself to the unis first, while sizing up the fourth man.

“Detective Nick Amaro,” that man said, extending a hand in greeting.

“Elliot Stabler.” Amaro looked pretty young, so Stabler figured him for being green right off the bat. _Terrific, just what I need._ “So did they tell you who we’re going in after today?” Elliot asked.

Amaro nodded. “Roger Bullman, suspected child rapist. Yeah, your captain sent over the details to my captain.”

“Nothing ‘suspected’ about him. He flat out admitted he did it. But he got released on bail and then skipped out of town before his trial date.”

“All right. And he’s got an accomplice?”

“Possibly. But we don’t know much about him. In fact, nothing at all except that they are both potentially armed.”

“Okay so…five to two, we should be able to handle this.”

“Why don’t you keep an eye on the perimeter while I head inside with Lange and Collins,” Elliot suggested. Now that this guy Amaro was here, Stabler suddenly wanted to be the one to bag Bullman. Something about this guy rubbed him wrong the wrong, even though they’d barely met.

Amaro straightened a little bit—clearly sizing up Elliot in turn and not backing off. “Pretty sure one person can keep an eye on things out here. And I’d like to actually do what I was sent here for—help in the arrest of a wanted criminal suspect.”

“Suit yourself,” Elliot said with a shrug as he started walking. “But don’t get in my way.”

* * *

They must have made for an odd sight as they walked into the very _chichi_ salon: Fin, John, Kathy and curly-haired Eli babbling away in his stroller. Perhaps even odder as John immediately strode over to an attractive woman in a wheelchair who was waiting in the reception area for them. He gave her a big smile and then a warm hug in greeting.

“John!” she said, returning his hug.

“Amy, glad you could make it,” he said, looking at her as he spoke, echoing his words with his hands. He turned to Fin and Kathy. “Fin, I know _you_ know Amy. Kathy, this is my friend, Amy Solwey.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kathy said, also using sign language as she spoke to Amy.

“Everyone here knows sign language except for me?” Fin asked.

“I learned as part of my nursing training,” Kathy explained. She turned back to Amy and said, “I’m sorry, I may be a little…out of practice?”

“That’s okay. I can read lips.”

“I started studying a few years ago. Amy helped,” John said to Fin, then turning to give Amy another smile.

“Yeah, I guess so.” John was quite the polyglot, so Fin supposed it made sense he’d want to pick up this method of communication as well.

So...that said, why was Fin feeling vaguely jealous about it? He tried to push those thoughts aside. John _had_ said that he and Amy were friends, nothing more. He didn’t need to read further into it than that.

The spa receptionist walked over to them and said in a quiet, polished voice, “Ah, Mr. Munch, so very nice to see you again. And I see your guests have both arrived now?”

“Yes, this is Kathy, and I assume Amy has already checked in?”

The woman nodded. “We’ll be modifying a few elements of our treatment to meet her needs, but we’ve already discussed those matters before you arrived. Mrs. Stabler, I have some brief intake paperwork to go over with you before we begin.”

“Of course. I’m afraid I’m pretty new to all this.”

“Then we’re going to ensure you have a truly memorable afternoon with us here.”

“Too bad she won’t remember a thing of it come tomorrow,” Fin said softly to John. John answered with a shrug.

The receptionist turned to the men and asked, “Are you sure you both don’t want to join us as well? We do have a supervised day care room for the little one, and we offer a couples package that you might enjoy.”

Fin started to stammer a response but John cut him off. “Thank you, Claire. Maybe another day. We have other plans for the afternoon. Kathy, we’ll see you around seven tonight?”

“Okay, great.”

“Amy, we’ll catch up later, all right?” John said.

She nodded and smiled at him, signing and speaking, “I owe you one, John.”

John only nodded his head in good-bye and Fin heard him say under his breath, “Let’s call it even.”

* * *

Elliot sighed and turned to Lange. “We’ve combed this place top to bottom. I think it’s safe to say Bullman and his friend are long gone—if they ever were here to begin with.”

“Think you’re right. Head out?”

“Yeah, let’s call this a wrap.”

Lange radioed Collins, to let him know they were ready to call it quits. They had started on the first floor, the four of them, spreading out and going room to room, space to space. They had proceeded with caution, looking not just for their suspects but any possible booby traps.

But the only thing they’d found so far was a suspicious stain on the first floor in one area—a stain that looked like it could very well be blood. But there was no body, no weapons or bullet casings, nothing to verify their suspicions. Not without calling CSU out, which seemed like a waste of time unless they found anything else of note.

Stabler’s radio crackled to life and a voice said, _“It’s Amaro. I’ve got something on the third floor here you should take a look at.”_

“Something like what?”

_“Signs somebody was here, and not long ago.”_

Elliot sighed again. He wanted to be done with this wild goose chase already, and he was annoyed to have Amaro hold them up now. But what was he going to do? He walked with Lange to the freight elevator, took it up to the top floor. They followed the sound of Amaro and McKinney’s voices through the large open space to one closed-off area on the north side of the building.

“What is it?” Elliot asked as he drew near.

“Looks like someone definitely was using this place for a hide-out.” Amaro indicated a pile of old blankets, empty snack food bags, and even an old, stained mattress.

Elliot shrugged. “Could have been any homeless bum or crackhead. Lots of them camp out in these empty warehouses if they can find their way in.”

“Or it could be our guy.”

“ _Our_ guy?” Stabler repeated.

Amaro ignored him. Squatting down, he picked through the scattered trash around the mattress with gloved hands. “Bet there’s something here we could get fingerprints from, or even DNA, to confirm if it’s Bullman.”

“Fine. I can call CSU to come take a look. But if he’s gone, what does it matter?”

“He might return later on. Could be worth sitting on this warehouse for a while, wait and see if he returns.”

“You want to waste your time on a stake-out, feel free. But I’ve got work to get back to.” Fin and Munch could spend their weekend sitting in a cold car sipping stale coffee and watching this stupid warehouse. Elliot would even rather hang around a baby shower than waste his weekend on _that._

Amaro suggested, in a calm tone, “Maybe you should check with your captain, see what he thinks.”

“Maybe you should mind your damn business and remember that you’re here to back _me_ up, not the other way around, buddy.”

Amaro stood up and started walking toward Elliot, snapping off his gloves. “You want to tell me what your problem is, Stabler? Or are you always this much of an arrogant prick?”

“Hey now, guys, let’s take it easy.” McKinney stepped between them while being careful not to disturb any of the evidence. “How about we _all_ head outside, radio in to our CO’s, and go from there?”

Stabler and Amaro glowered at each other, but then Stabler shrugged and said, “Fine. Whatever.” He stormed off, to the elevator and then his car to radio Cragen.

_Who does that guy think he is, anyway? Like he’s gonna come around here and do my job better than me? Dream on, kid!_

* * *

Little Eli proved to be an exhausting whirlwind of toddler energy, even for a pair of experienced policemen like Fin and John used to dealing with the rowdiest of suspects and criminals. On the verge of entering the terrible twos, Eli was determined to stumble off on his chubby little legs after anything that caught his eye—and then start screaming and sobbing when he tripped and fell to the ground.

“The longer this afternoon goes on,” John began, panting as he deposited the squirmy boy into his stroller yet again, “the more I’m glad we gave poor Kathy a day off. I don’t know how she does it. I’ll stick with dogs and cats.”

“I hear you. Batman was easier to control in the zoo than Eli.” Fin smiled down at his puppy, who was happily keeping pace with the men and the stroller. “And that was smooth work there, convincing the dude at the ticket booth that he’s a companion dog in training so we could bring him in.”

John shrugged. “Flash a badge and you can get away with a lot in this city. You just have to have a good poker face.”

“And he was a good boy about staying close on his leash, too.”

“At least until he wanted to jump in the pond after the turtles. Then again, Eli was about ready to lead the charge.” The Children’s Zoo had kept Eli entertained for a good two hours, before he’d started getting antsy and ready for a change of scenery. “Where should we head next? There’s the playground that way,” John said, pointing to his left, “or the pond if we follow this path.”

Fin considered both options, then said, “The pond. Even if Eli isn’t into it, _I_ like watching the model sailboats.”

“Well then, lead the way.”

Central Park was even busier than when they’d visited Prospect Park on this sunny and crisp October Friday. Plenty of others were out with young children and infants, kids not yet of school age enjoying the Autumn weather. A few times Fin caught some of the mothers, grandmothers and nannies in charge of these young ones giving him and John odd looks as they strolled along. He could only imagine what they might be thinking at the sight of them. And if at first it make him feel a little awkward, after a while it was beginning to piss him off.

“Notice some of the looks we’ve been gettin’ today?” he asked John after one older woman and her gossipy girlfriends on a park bench gave them a particularly nasty stink-eye.

“Hard to miss. I suppose we do make an unusual familial unit here with our golden-haired Irish lad.”

 _Guess my son deals with shit like this all the time._ It was a sobering thought, something Fin hadn't really considered. He’d always been more worried about Ken’s safety than the day-to-day bigotry and judgmental attitudes he must face.

Fin thought of how, two same-days ago, their co-workers had reacted to the idea of him and John being sexually intimate. Olivia had been fine, if surprised, but Elliot? Even after finding out it wasn’t rape, he hadn’t been able to hold back his disgust. And random strangers were now giving them critical looks when they didn’t even _know...?_

It wasn’t as if Fin had been holding hands with John, or kissing him in public…

In fact his annoyance at that moment boiled over so that he felt compelled to do exactly that. He put his hand over John’s on the stroller, bringing them all to a halt. And when John stopped and looked at him curiously, Fin moved in for a long, deep kiss.

When he pulled away John only gave him a pleased look and said, “That was nice.”

“Yeah. Fuck what other people think. Right?”

“I’ll turn you into a proud nonconformist yet, mark my words.”

Fin was contemplating another kiss when he felt his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and saw the number, then looked to John. “It’s Cragen.”

“Better answer it. But don’t say anything about Kathy and Eli, if you can avoid spoiling things.”

“’Course.”

Fin took a deep breath to clear his mind, then answered with a calm, “Cap’n, what’s up?”

_“Fin. What’s the situation with John’s uncle?”_

“Turns out he’s okay. There was a mix-up at the hospital, can you believe that shit? They had the wrong patient. Almost made us drive all the way out there for nothing.”

_“You’re kidding. That’s terrible.”_

“Yeah, Munch’s still pretty upset about it. I’m tryin’ to make sure he’s okay, but I don’t think he’ll be in any shape to come back in this afternoon.”

_“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I wanted to let you both know what happened at the warehouse.”_

“Go on.”

Fin listened as the captain detailed what Stabler and the others had found there—and what they _hadn’t_ found. _“The lab is testing some of the items found there for prints, to verify if it was Bullman or not, but sounds like another dead end. Though if you want to put in some overtime over the weekend on stake-out, to see if he shows up, I’ll approve the hours.”_

“Yeah, I’ll talk to Munch about it…maybe we’ll do that. Thanks, Captain.”

He hung up and John asked him, “So what went on at the warehouse?”

“Not much. They searched the place thoroughly, but didn’t find Bullman or Wilkes. Found stuff suggestin’ someone was using it as a crash space but if it was Bullman, we’ll have to wait for the lab to prove it. That and…” Fin paused for a moment. John looked to him expectantly. “They did find what could be blood stains on the ground. Where last same-day I shot Wilkes.”

John contemplated this as they walked along. “Curious,” he finally remarked.

“That all you have to say?”

“For now. Dammit. I was hoping we’d get some kind of answer on how death works in this loop. So now we don’t know if Wilkes is still dead, or if for some reason the blood remained behind even if he’s alive today.”

“And Bullman’s still out there somewhere on the loose,” Fin added, not happy at that prospect. “Captain suggested us doin’ a stake-out on the warehouse to see if he comes back, but that’ll have to wait until if we ever get out of the loop.”

“Unless we head there later tonight.” John sighed. “I guess we’ll wait and see how the day goes, but we’d want to drop Batman off and check on Marmalade first.”

“Yeah, or try it another same-day night.” The two continued along toward the pond, both deep in thought while Eli napped peacefully in his stroller.

* * *

“Seriously, Liv, have you _seen my phone anywhere_?”

Olivia gave her partner a weary look. “For the third time, El, _no_ , I have _not_ seen your phone. Maybe you left it at home?”

“I wouldn’t do that. I never forget my phone. Someone must have lifted it while I was out. Dammit!”

“Look, calm down. Why not check with Kathy to see if it’s at home? Before you go off suspecting something criminal instead of your own forgetfulness.”

“Because she’s not answering. Which is why I’m worried. I tried the home number, and _her_ cell, but nothing. I even called a couple of the neighbors she spends a lot of time with but she wasn’t with any of them.”

“Maybe she had to run out, take care of some errands, and simply forgot to bring her phone? Give it an hour and try again. She _is_ allowed to leave the house and not report her every move to you, El.”

“All right, fine. I’ll give it an hour.” He checked the clock; that would take it to almost four. _And if she doesn’t answer then I’m heading home, don’t care if it’s early._ He’d had enough of this day already and didn’t need to add worrying about his wife and youngest child to his stress.

* * *

“Thank you again for everything today. I know it’s a cliché, but I feel like a new woman!”

“It was our pleasure, Kathy,” John replied. They were headed to the Stabler residence at last, Kathy and Eli in the rear seats of Fin’s car, John riding in the front with Fin. Batman rested, content and well-exercised, in John’s lap. Eli was napping again, too, this time with his head resting on the giant plush penguin they’d picked out for him at the toy store.

“I wonder if Elliot’s home yet. I can’t wait until he sees the ‘new me’,” Kathy said, reaching for her hair to pat the soft waves blown out by the spa’s stylist.

“Neither can I,” Fin said quietly, and he and John exchanged brief glances. There’d been no more calls from the captain or anyone else that evening, so neither had any idea what to expect when they got to Glen Oaks.

They certainly didn’t expect to turn onto Stabler’s street to find several police cruisers with lights blazing, all parked in front of the house.

“Oh my God, what is going on?” Kathy gasped.

“I’m not sure, but Kathy—stay in the car with Eli until I have the chance to find out,” Fin said in a serious tone. He assumed it was Elliot having a freak-out over the two of them being missing, but just in case…

_…if Bullman and Wilkes came back to the warehouse after all before Stabler left, and something happened…_

For all their setting up Elliot for a prank, Fin wanted to make sure they weren’t, by some chance, leading Kathy into a _real_ emergency.

Fin parked across the street, flashed his badge at an officer who rushed over to try to halt him from getting closer. “Detective Tutuola from the 16th. I work with the cop who lives here; what’s going on?”

“Good, maybe _you_ can calm him down—my hat’s off to you for putting up with this hot-head on a regular basis. No offense, Detective.”

“Trust me, none taken.”

“Anyway, resident reports his wife and son missing since this afternoon. Came home and says they were both gone with no indication of where they went, or if they went voluntarily.”

“Well, that’s crazy, ’cuz we’ve got his wife and son in our car—and we left him messages where they were gonna be.”

“You serious?”

Fin turned and waved at John that it was okay to step out. “That’s my partner in the car, he’ll show you.”

John was just getting out and going around to open Kathy’s door when Elliot came barreling out of the house. “Dammit, are you guys gonna sit out here all night with your thumbs up your asses, or are you gonna get out there looking for my wife and son!” He spotted Fin now and stormed over. “Well thank God _someone_ is here who might know what the fuck they’re doing!”

“Calm down, Elliot,” Fin tried to soothe him. “Kathy and Eli were out with me and John this afternoon. We called to tell you that. _Kathy_ called to tell you.”

“Nobody told me _shit_!” Elliot turned to see his wife get out of the car, a sleepy Eli in her arms. He ran for the car. “Kathy! Oh, my God, I was so worried!”

“Elliot, what is _wrong_ with you?” she asked, completely confused.

“ _Me_? Only that I’ve been worried sick since I got home and you were gone.” He wrapped them both up in a hug, only then to pull away and give Kathy a puzzled look. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Gee, thanks, Elliot. John and Fin treat me to a make-over and that’s all you can say about it? I’m going in the house.”

“I’ll help you with the stroller, Kathy,” John said, going to the trunk to pop it open. He was trying to be calm and nonchalant about the entire matter, playing his part to perfection. Batman, meanwhile, couldn't stop barking and circling John’s feet. All the yelling and lights and people had him excited and thinking it was playtime again.

“I don’t understand _any_ of this!” Elliot shouted. “I thought you two had to see John’s uncle today. Instead you run off with my wife and kid?!”

“We didn’t run off with _anyone_ ,” John tried to explain. “Kathy called you. _I_ called you.”

“Some _asshole_ stole my phone! You could have left a message at work.”

“We knew you were out on the Bullman call,” Fin put in.

“Yeah, _your_ case that you blew off to go galavanting around the city with my wife?” Elliot was having none of it as he followed them toward the house, escorting Kathy and Eli. “And will someone shut this goddamned dog up!”

Batman careened right in front of Elliot, almost tripping him as the detective was too focused on his anger to notice the puppy at his feet. He kicked out in anger and Batman whimpered, scampering to safety behind John.

And that, to no surprise to anyone who knew John, was taking things to the point of no return. “Did you just _kick our dog you fucking piece of shit!”_

Two of the unis had to jump in to hold back Stabler, while Fin had to dash to restrain John before fists started flying. “All right, everyone, _calm down_ before I have to bring you _all_ in to cool off in a holding cell,” the one officer threatened.

“John, John, take it easy,” Fin tried to calm him. He was pissed, too, but none of them needed to end up in jail tonight.

Now Eli had woken up and was crying, and Kathy looked beyond disgusted at her husband, close to tears herself. “If you want to take my husband into custody, _please_ _do_ ,” she said to the officers. Then to Elliot, she hissed, “I can’t believe you’re acting like this all because your _friends_ decided to treat me to a nice day. It’s not _their_ fault you lost your phone. But maybe it’s my fault I ever decided to come back to living with you.”

“Kathy, please…” Elliot began, running off after his wife as she fled into the house.

 _So much for the best-made plans,_ Fin thought, before bending down to confirm Batman was okay. This certainly wasn’t how he had planned to end the evening.

* * *

Fin and John found themselves held up with the officers from the 105th for some time until everything was cleared up. “We’re sorry to do this to you guys,” Officer Mazza explained when they were finally finished at the precinct. “It’s just once we have a missing persons report—especially when a child is involved involved—we gotta make sure everything’s tight before we close the case.”

“Believe us, we understand,” John said. “We deal with it every day at Special Victims.”

“Officer Kinsey found Detective Stabler’s cell phone in the house, not long after you arrived. It was clear that you and Mrs. Stabler both tried to inform him of her and the child’s whereabouts. No one could argue otherwise.”

“If we’d’ve known he didn’t have his phone, we would have told our supervisor, too. Or left a note in his house,” Fin added.

“Forget it, not your fault that guy is a head-case with some major anger management issues. You should’ve heard the shit he was giving _us_ at his house before you guys arrived.” Mazza crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. A conspiratorial smile crossed his lips. “If you both want to press assault charges, we’d be _happy_ to go back there and arrest that prick. Let him spend a night enjoying our hospitality here at the one-oh-five.”

“We appreciate it, but that’s all right. At this point we’re both ready to head home and call it a night,” John said, looking to Fin who nodded in agreement.

“You got it. Hey, stay safe out there.”

They spent the ride to Fin’s apartment mostly in silence, save for John talking in a soft, reassuring voice to Batman and giving him lots of hugs and kisses. “He okay?” Fin asked in a worried tone, as they were getting close to home.

“Yeah, I think he’s fine, just a little shook up.”

“How ’bout you?”

“Me? I’m okay. Exhausted, but that’s all,” John admitted with a yawn. “Maybe it was a bit much for today when I’m still not one hundred percent after that beating.”

“And maybe we went a little overboard with this prank today,” Fin said. “I mean, it was nice treatin’ Kathy, and Amy, but gettin’ Elliot _that_ worried and worked up?”

“Come on, Fin. Kathy and Eli were ‘missing’ for no more than a few hours. We may have set him up to worry by misplacing his phone and not telling him our plans. But _he’s_ the one who went ballistic when we showed up tonight, instead of responding with relief and gratitude—like a husband who doesn’t have to monitor his wife’s every move outside of the home would have.”

“I guess,” Fin said, although he still had some doubts. If Elliot actually _learned_ anything from the way he tended to jump the gun, that would be one thing. But come next same-day, this would all be forgotten. Just like Elliot had no memory of accusing Fin of being a rapist and the hurt that had caused…that only Fin and John would ever know about.

It bothered him, and Fin wasn’t sure what he could do about it. Not while they were stuck in the loop. Maybe a good night’s sleep would clear his mind.

And maybe, come next same-day, they could look for some answers about Bullman and Wilkes, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience waiting for this chapter!


	16. Friends and Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fin decides to try reaching out to his son again, while John deals with Gwen—and the appearance of someone else from their past. Later that evening, the two decide to explore one of John's expressed desires, leading to truly explosive results.

** Day 16 **

Fin woke with a start to the jarring _beep-beep-beep_ of his alarm. He silenced it by yanking the electric cord out of the wall—who the fuck cared what time it was, anyway? Another Friday was here, obviously, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it yet. He curled tight to John instead, who had stirred at the noise but made no great effort to otherwise get moving, either.

“That th’alarm?” came John’s mumbled question.

“Mmm. Ignore it,” Fin said with a nuzzled kiss to John’s ear. “I am.”

“Mmmkay.”

When they’d belatedly made it back to Fin’s apartment the night before, they’d been too tired for any of their usual frisky business. Tired and, truthfully, not in the best of spirits for it. Not after the way their pranking Stabler had thrown him into such a violent rage. So they’d simply undressed and collapsed into bed with Batman nestled between them, giving the puppy lots of pets and reassurances, making sure he was okay.

Batman had wandered off during the night, so it was easier now for Fin to snuggle in close to John. That physical contact did a lot to improve his mood this waking morning compared to the night before. It was comforting to have a warm body in bed to wake up to like this—even a skinny, bony-assed warm body like John’s. And fuck it, they weren’t rushing out of bed today. Not even if the captain called with some so-called “emergency”, one that wouldn’t mean a damn thing come next same-day anyway.

Drifting between sleep and consciousness, Fin allowed his right hand to wander over his partner’s body. He found that body becoming familiar to him, and that familiarity only made him more at ease with their growing intimacy. He anticipated, for instance, the tiny bump of a mole on John’s right shoulder. The hard ridge of his collarbone. The edge of a raised scar under his rib cage. Fin kept meaning to ask about that last one, at some point. But every time they got naked together, there usually were other things more immediately on his mind than the reminders of old injuries.

For now his hand slipped lower, toward John’s groin, brushing over wiry curls of hair. That elicited a small shudder and murmur of approval, although John still seemed half-asleep. Fin pressed his lips against the back of the man’s neck, the urge to bite and leave fresh marks rising within him. John _had_ said he liked a little pain, after all…and thinking about _that_ sent a surge of longing straight to Fin’s dick.

He teased a nibble of flesh between his teeth, his own sleepiness fading fast at John’s murmur of approval. He then started to toy with John’s penis, enjoying how he could feel it growing stiff and rising, swelling at his touch.

Damn. Fin was feeling horny as shit now, but also still a little lazy. He wasn’t quite up for the intensity of pounding that ass, as incredible as that felt. So he was perfectly satisfied when John rolled over to lie face-to-face…or more importantly, body to body, cock to cock. They indulged in rubbing against each other, hands taking turns stroking, teasing, touches growing gradually more intense and heated. It was what Fin needed after last night’s tense events—this kind of gentle love-making, where they could take their time and simply revel in the intimacy.

He wanted to kiss John but held back, as frustrating as it was doing so. Everyone had their quirks; Fin would have to accept this one of John’s. He wished that they could leave a bottle of mouthwash on the nightstand and not have it magically returned to the bathroom come morning. But he put his frustration into sucking and licking at an earlobe instead, tugging on the sensitive skin with his teeth.

John groaned louder, wide awake now and obviously loving it.

Their touches and strokes intensified, building from that idle, slow start until sweat began to coat heated bodies. Fin’s mouth moved back to that neck and he sucked hard on tender skin, until John’s groans and heavy breaths turned into a sharp cry of release. Come coated his fingers as they stroked John’s cock, as Fin then took them both in hand to envelop his own aching erection with the sticky wetness. Not long after and he was coming, his own warm seed spilling out and mixing with John’s. Messy, hot, blissful release settled over him, and Fin settled back contentedly into John’s arms.

“Nice way to wake up in the morning…” John said with a sigh.

“Mm hmm.”

“Take it you’re not in a rush to head into work.”

“Nah. Don’t think I can deal with seeing cranky-balls Stabler today.” If he did, Fin had a suspicion he might walk straight up to Elliot and punch him in the face, make quick work of things instead of staging some elaborate prank. And he knew _that_ wouldn’t lead to a pleasant rest of the day, even if it were satisfying in the moment.

“So what do you have in mind, hon?” John asked.

Fin hesitated before answering. His thoughts were still a little scattered from post-coital bliss, but there _had_ been an idea in the back of his brain since yesterday afternoon in the park. “If you don’t mind, I got somethin’ I need to do on my own today. And no, it’s _not_ going back to that warehouse, looking for Wilkes or Bullman,” he insisted, silencing the suspicions he knew would be on the tip of John’s tongue. “Hoping I can catch up with my son, try to talk to him…better than I managed to the other night when I showed up as Batman. The way I figure, even if nothing comes of it ’cause of the time-loop, I can use it as practice to try to talk to him later, if we ever get out of this.”

“ _When_ we get out of this, you mean.”

“Okay, when,” Fin said, although he was beginning to have his doubts that day would ever come. After more than two weeks of this he felt as though they had already tried a lot of things, and no obvious solution had come into sight.

“I understand. I could actually use some personal time today, too,” John said. “That is, if neither of us will get a call about a case.”

“If you do, let me know.” Fin didn’t want John getting into any difficult or dangerous situation on his own.

“I will. But if not, I’ll head uptown to my place. I have some reading, possible research to do. And I realized last night that I never cleaned Marmalade’s litter box back at my apartment since I was last there more than a few same-days ago.”

“Uh, yeah. Might want to take care of _that,_ ” Fin agreed.

After finally crawling out of bed, John took care of feeding the animals and putting on coffee while Fin showered first. Shaved and dressed, Fin found John lounging on the sofa in his shorts and undershirt, coffee mug in hand. “You’re feeling all better today, right?” Fin had to make sure. He hadn’t noticed any lingering bruises today when they’d gotten out of bed.

“Good as new.” John patted his chest. “If only cracked ribs and other internal injuries healed this efficiently outside of the loop…well, I suppose the medical industry wouldn’t be too ecstatic.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m gonna take Batman with me to meet Ken. That way he can get in his walk time for the day.”

“Good idea. I’ll bring Marmalade with me to my place for company. You want to meet up back there later today, if nothing comes up?” John suggested. “We haven't actually tested if we’ll both wake up there if we spend the night. At least, we haven’t tried it since we started fucking around.”

“Sure, why not.” Fin couldn’t remember how many nights they’d been here, but he could understand John wanting to sleep in his own bed for a change. He leaned down to place a delayed, now safely teeth-brushed kiss on his partner’s lips. “We gonna try anything else fun tonight, babe?”

John’s mouth quirked into an mischievous smile. “I’m sure we can think of something. But I’m not going to think about it right now, because then neither of us will be leaving this apartment anytime soon.”

“True.”

* * *

Batman enjoyed the ride into Manhattan, with so much to watch out of the car window. Traffic was thick once Fin got across the bridge, so it took him a while to navigate the congested streets of lower Manhattan to Williams House, and then to find parking.

 _I should suck it up and start using lots,_ he thought after circling the block for a second time, hoping someone had been loading or unloading and freed up a space in the meantime _._ John was right—when Fin had checked his bank balance online this morning before leaving, he'd noticed any money he’d spent on a past same-day was right back in his account today. Except for what he’d spent on pet supplies; _that_ seemed to be the only exception so far. So why not save himself the aggravation of driving around for a free spot when he could drop a twenty on a spot in a garage?

_Should take advantage while I can afford it. Got plenty other things aggravating me about this loop._

But he did luck into a spot three blocks away as he’d begun searching for a garage sign. He took Batman with him to the familiar building where his son worked, figuring a bunch of college-aged, ultra-progressive kids shouldn’t mind him bringing a dog onto the premises. Sure enough, the young man at the front desk gave the two of them a big smile as they entered and pointed him up to the second floor, when asked if Ken was in. “No problem with the dog here, right?” Fin asked.

“Absolutely not! In fact if you have time to stick around, feel free to bring him over to our social room for a while. I’m sure some of the kids would love to spend time with him.”

Fin found Ken among the many cubicles and desks in what was the organizational center of the operation. Or rather, Ken spotted _him_ first as Batman led the charge, barking excitedly at exploring a new space, getting surprised laughs and some pets along the way.

“Dad? What are you doing here? And who’s this?” Ken asked, after a perfunctory hug hello.

“This is my new dog, Batman. I just adopted him while I had a day off, so I thought I’d put my time off to good use by checking in on my son.”

“Well, that’s…unexpected of you.”

And that was Ken, constantly on guard. Not that Fin blamed him after all the years they’d had such a difficult, distant relationship. “I know. And I can see your busy,” Fin said, trying his best to be amenable. “But…you got time to grab a bite to eat? Either a late breakfast, or lunch in a while?”

“Ah…sure, okay,” Ken answered with some caution. “How about lunch? If you can stop back in an hour or two? Because I _am_ in the middle of something right now and…”

“…It’s all right. Lunch is good. If you got the time, I saw that place on the corner, with the outdoor tables, meet me there. Say about noon. If not…” Fin shrugged, trying to keep it as casual as he could. “I’ll catch you another time. All right?”

“Okay. Sure. See you then.”

Fin left it at that, figuring Ken could join him or not—either way it was in his son’s court now. In the meantime, he decided to find that social room the young man downstairs had mentioned. Giving Batman a chance to play and interact with some new people would be good for the puppy’s socialization skills. And Fin wanted to find out more about the kind of work his son did here, anyway. Hopefully it could give them something to talk about later on.

* * *

John took his time leaving the apartment that morning. He called in to the captain and gave the Chinese food poisoning excuse again for both of them, since it was the easiest and so far had worked without fail. It didn't sound like today would be another case-day for them, which was good.

He toyed with a number of ideas of how he’d love to continue getting back at Elliot—even considering mentioning “the tip” about the warehouse to the captain while they were on the phone. But he pushed that to the back of his mind for another same-day. There’d be other ways to get back at Elliot, no doubt. And he could use a break from thinking about Bullman, Wilkes, and whatever was going on or _had_ gone on at that warehouse on the days leading up to Friday, October 23.

Instead he packed up Marmalade’s harness and a few other items in the soft carry-case he’d bought for her. He’d need to take her uptown on the subway, if he was bringing her back to his apartment, and he didn't want her getting spooked and running loose on him.

Before catching the subway, he took her back to the cafe where he and Fin had gotten lunch the other same-day. He chose the same outdoor table as before and the same waitress came over to serve him—with, of course, no recollection that he had ever been there before.

“She’s so _cute!_ ” the woman exclaimed again as she saw Marmalade, released from her carry-case to relish the cuddle time in John’s lap.

“Yes, she’s my sweet baby girl.” John ordered the same omelette he’d had the other day, but only a coffee to go with it; it wasn’t even ten a.m. yet and he wasn’t up for a Bloody Mary this early. He had a book for company, one he’d snagged from Fin’s bedroom bookcase. It was a collection of works by poets of the Harlem Renaissance which had caught his eye after Fin had left. As well-read as John liked to consider himself, he had to admit he wasn’t too familiar with these works. And if it was something that meant enough to Fin to keep around in his fairly limited library of books, it had to be something important to his partner. So of course, John was curious.

His food arrived and he spent his time eating and reading at leisure, appreciating the quiet morning activity on the street. Some people hated eating out alone, but generally he didn’t mind. Often a book could be more engaging than what passed for stimulating “conversation” while on a date or other forced social occasion. Though it was funny; with Fin he invariably found something interesting to talk about. He liked how they could debate contentious issues with passion but rarely anger. They might have different political and social views but most of the time they could find some common ground to agree upon—even if it were just over how much things outright sucked for so many people.

Fin was someone of whose company John never grew tired, not after nine years of working together. That had to say a lot for them as friends, and partners. If there was anyone he was going to be stuck in a potentially endless time-loop with, he was gratified it was Fin.

The mind-blowing sex didn’t hurt things, either.

John finished his omelette and was debating a third refill on his coffee to linger a bit longer. But then his cell phone started vibrating, and taking it out to check he recognized Cragen’s number.

_Shit. Something must have come up, and it can’t be good._

He remembered to try to sound a little weak and ill when he answered, to keep up the food poisoning ruse. “Captain?”

_“John. Sorry to call when I know you’re not feeling well, but there's a situation going on presently you might want to know about.”_

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

_“It’s…your ex-wife, Gwen.”_

John cursed under his breath. He wasn't in the mood for her showing up at the precinct again, babbling about Peter Harrison or whatever else was up her ass this same-day. “What did she do now?”

_“She’s down at the courthouse with a bunch of other…‘protestors’ , I guess they’d call themselves, causing a real scene this morning. Something about Peter Harrison. Alex called after she had a close encounter with them while heading in for a motion hearing this morning. She didn’t know Gwen, but apparently Gwen knows Alex works our cases and wanted to give her an earful about all of us. But of course, you especially.”_

“I’m sure. Great…just what I needed today.”

_“Well, so far as Alex described it’s been a peaceful—if noisy—protest. But I thought you might want to know.”_

“And I suppose it doesn’t look great for this department to have my ex out there stirring up trouble,” John sighed. “I’ll…try to drag myself over there and see if I can talk her down. Her and her compatriots from the lunatic fringe. Thanks for alerting me.” John stifled a burp over the now real indigestion brewing in his stomach. “Maybe I’ll go there and puke all over them.”

_“That’s the spirit, Sergeant.”_

John snorted and hung up, then waived the waitress over for his check. He debated calling Fin to let him know what was up, then decided against it. He didn’t want Gwen interfering with Fin having a—he hoped—nice time with his son. And this was definitely a new deviation for Gwen’s behavior for the day, so John _couldn’t_ exactly ignore it in good conscience. Anything this different, he owed it to both him and Fin to investigate.

* * *

Fin arrived early at the café, grabbing a sidewalk table where he could sit with Batman. He and the puppy had spent an hour or so at Williams House, with some of the kids either waiting for appointments to talk to some of the counselors there—or simply hanging out, glad to have a safe place off the streets to spend some time with people their age. And maybe a few older people not out to abuse them, too. It had been a revealing experience for Fin, who said nothing of his job, only that he was there to visit his son.

 _“Wish I had a dad who ever gave a rat’s ass what happened to me,”_ one young runaway named Jimmy had told him. Batman had taken an instant liking to the boy, rolling around stomach-up and whining for belly rubs.

 _“Sometimes I wish I’d been better at lettin’ my son know how much I did care,”_ Fin had admitted.

 _“You’re here and you didn’t kick him out of the house for being gay,”_ a girl named Kelly had said. _“Like my mom and dad did. Gotta think you did okay.”_

Fin used to think he did okay, just staying out of Ken’s way, sending money to Teresa and helping with the college bills. He used to think that was sufficient.

But now? He had a son who might not outright _hate_ him, but one who sure never chose to spend much time around him, either.

Somehow that didn’t seem all that “okay”.

And yet, several minutes before noon, Fin spotted Ken walking up the street to join him. “Hey, glad you could escape for a little while,” Fin said as Ken took the chair across from him.

“Yeah, well…busy these days, you know? Always a lot of kids in need of help, and we don’t have the budget or the staff to keep up with all of them.”

“I hear that. But it’s work that’s important to you, isn’t it? So that’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.”

They ordered, Ken not needing much time to look over the menu; “I eat here all the time,” he explained to his father.

“Good, then I’ll have what he’s having,” Fin agreed with a polite smile to their server. When he turned back to his son, Ken was giving him a puzzled look. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No, just…you sure everything’s okay, dad? I mean…showing up on a workday to take me out to lunch…getting a dog and…what’s with the name ‘Batman’, anyway?”

“I don’t know, he seemed to like the name, soon as I came across this little guy at the pound. Right, Batman?” He glanced down and the puppy barked in agreement. “Also…guess I was thinkin’ about how when you were a kid, you always wanted to play Batman and Robin with me. You remember that?”

“I remember most of the time you said you were too tired from work to play games. If you were home at all.”

“Yeah, I remember that, too,” Fin admitted. And after a short pause to work himself up, he continued, “Ken…I know I can’t change things that happened in the past. I’m sorry I wasn’t around more like I should have been, to be a good father to you. I’m also sorry if…I haven’t seemed more accepting of who you are. There’s just a lot I never understood about how things must’ve been for you, all these years.”

A skeptical look passed over his son’s face. “And now you’ve what, had a revelation and seen the light? You’re suddenly going to be proud of your out-and-loud son?”

Fin shook his head. “I’ve _always_ been proud of you. But I’m a father too, and a father worries. Maybe not over the right things, sometimes. You’ll understand some day, if or when you become a father yourself. Listen…I’ll admit it, when I first found out you were gay, I was…confused about it. I thought it was my fault for not bein’ around when you were younger. Not being a good, strong father figure to you. I had…a lot of my own hang-ups to deal with, but that wasn’t nothin’ to do with you. It was all on _me_.”

Ken said nothing, but he didn’t interrupt, either.

“And yeah, I worried about you because of the things I see on my job. Gay kids getting attacked by nut-job homophobic idiots. People so upset with who they are and not being able to accept it that they ended up hurting themselves, or others. I just…I didn’t want that to be you.”

“You can’t protect me from the world forever, dad.”

“I know that. But you’ll have to forgive me if I can’t stop trying. I’m doing it ’cause I love you that much. All right?”

Ken still didn’t look completely sold, but eventually he nodded in at least cautious acceptance. “All right.”

Their server came back with drinks and a promise that their lunch would be out soon. “So why don’t you tell me more about what’s up with you?” Fin asked, then ventured, “I mean, you seein’ anyone?”

“…Yeah, I am. For about six months now, actually.”

“Really? That’s good…isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. In fact we’re thinking about moving in together soon.”

“Sounds serious. You want to tell me about him? We could all meet up for dinner or something soon. I mean, if you want to.”

“How about we take things one step at a time?” Ken asked, and finally, for the first time all day that Fin had seen, managed to give him a cautious smile.

Fin nodded, and smiled back at his son.

* * *

Darius Parker watched the scene playing out on the courthouse steps with amusement—and a modest amount of curiosity.

For he knew that where there was a protest, there usually was a story to be found. One that might make good fodder for his website.

That was a project he’d begun not longer after he had last stepped foot in a courthouse as a defendant, instead of an observer as he was today. A reporter, putting his own experiences with the criminal justice system to good use in now trying to tear it—and the NYPD—down to the ground.

Granted, at first glance this protest looked like nothing but a group of crazy white people. He wasn’t sure they’d be of much interest to his readers. He was at the courthouse today to take notes on a trial of a young man from his old neighborhood, someone who was accused of killing the girlfriend of a rival dealer. The defendant claimed the police were setting him up, that he wasn’t even involved in drugs at all, and stories like that regularly caught Darius’ attention.

But his ears picked up when he heard a woman in the crowd, shouting through her bullhorn: _“The corrupt officers of Manhattan’s SVU have railroaded an innocent man! Free Peter Harrison! Free yourselves from this tyrannical police state!”_

“Manhattan SVU? Well, well, well,” Darius muttered to himself. If there were any particular cops in this city he _always_ loved to get fresh dirt on, it was good old Fin Tutuola and his buddies at the 16th precinct. Maybe his trial reporting could wait until a little later in the day.

He headed down the steps, making his way toward the woman with the bullhorn. Her grey-blonde, curly hair was flying all around her face as she spoke and led those assembled with her in cheers and shouts of support.

 _“Free Peter Harrison! Free Peter Harrison!”_ she kept shouting. And Darius joined the chant, raising a fist in the air as he weaved through the crowds toward her. Eventually she looked as though she needed to catch a breath and handed the megaphone over to one of the other protestors, a nerdish beanpole of a man who looked like this was the first day he’d seen sunlight in over a year.

 _Basement dwellers, all of them,_ Darius sneered to himself. But he put on his best obsequious smile as he caught the woman’s eye. “Do I know you?” she asked, having to shout to be heard over the megaphone.

“No, but I think you might like to get to know me.” He extended his hand. “Darius Parker, I’m a reporter.” He chose not to explain precisely where and what he wrote for, for the time being.

She looked about ready to fling herself into his arms and kiss him. “Well, _finally_ there is someone out here listening to us!”

“Yes I am. Now, can you explain what this is all about?” he asked, reaching for the notepad he kept in his jacket. “What injustice has SVU’s detectives committed this time?”

“You sound like you know a lot about them already.”

“Unfortunately I do. Do you think we could…step over here for a moment?” he suggested, indicating they move out of the gathered group so they could continue talking without shouting.

“Of course! Just—” She went to one of her fellow protestors, tugging at his arm and then speaking into his ear. He looked over at Darius, then nodded. She came back to join him then and let him lead her away from the crowd and down about half a block.

“All right, is this better?” she said in a more normal tone, not having to shout now.

“Much. So tell me more about this Peter Harrison, and why you’re all here protesting today.”

The woman opened her mouth to begin speaking but suddenly her expression turned into one of shock and surprise. “John!” she exclaimed, looking over Darius’ shoulder. Darius started to turn to see who it was when a rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him nearly off his feet.

“Get the hell away from her!”

“Hands off, man, what the—” Darius stopped himself when he recognized the tall, older white man. “Well now, if it isn’t one of New York’s ‘finest’, Detective John Munch,” he spit out with a sneer. “Oh, I’m sorry, I hear it’s sergeant now. So who did you have to pay off to get promoted?”

“You can go to Hell, you piece of shit.”

“Get out of here, John. This doesn’t concern _you,”_ the woman said. “I’ve been emailing you for ages about how Peter is in danger, how he’s been unfairly imprisoned, and you ignore me! _Finally,_ someone is here who’s at last willing to listen to me!”

“This _someone_ is _not_ someone you want to associate with, Gwen, trust me,” John Munch said, casting a rage-filled glance in Darius’ direction. “This man is a murderer. A rapist and a vicious child killer.”

“Allegations the corrupt NYPD and District Attorney’s office couldn’t make stick no matter how hard they tried,” Darius replied smoothly, talking more to this woman Gwen than to Munch. “But it sounds like you know all about how they operate, miss.”

“Do I ever,” she huffed, shaking off Munch’s attempt to take her by the arm. “And you can’t dictate who I do or don’t talk to, John. You don’t control me. You don’t even _listen_ to me—until I’m out here causing you _embarrassment.”_ She shook her head, hair flying in every direction. “Honestly I don’t know how I could stay married to a man like you for as long as I did.”

 _Married?_ Darius thought to himself, and it suddenly all made sense. Beautiful, wonderful sense.

Gwen. Gwen _Munch_. Oh, he knew some things about _her_ , all right. All the work he’d put into investigating the detectives who worked with Fin, during and since his trial…the _one_ person he’d been holding out on dragging through the mud, his ace in the hole if he’d needed it...and that was none other than Fin’s own partner, John Munch.

Today was growing more beautiful and perfect by the second.

“Look, Gwen, I don’t care what you think about me,” Munch insisted. “But I’m telling you, this man here is nothing but trouble. You _don’t_ need to get involved with _him_. Let’s go somewhere we can talk about this…”

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you! Not unless you arrest me. Are you going to do that? For staging an entirely legal protest and choosing to have a conversation with whomever I want?”

“Yeah, Sergeant Munch, are you going to do that?” Darius reached for his cell phone to get his camera ready. “It would make a _great_ lead story for my website, don’t you think? ‘High ranking NYPD sergeant arrests his own wife at protest against police corruption.’”

Munch looked between them, noticeably pissed and frustrated but realizing he was in a no-win situation. “All right, I’m going. But watch yourself, Gwen, and don’t ever say I never tried to look out for you.”

“Be seeing you!” Darius shouted with cheer as he waved after the departing Munch.

“I’m _so_ sorry about that,” Gwen said.

“It’s all right, I wouldn’t expect anything less from that man or his partner. Or anyone else from that unit.”

“Sounds like you’ve had your share of difficulties with them,” she said with sympathy.

Darius nodded, putting on a more somber expression. “We should trade stories, so you can more fully understand why I’m interested in your situation. In fact, maybe we should get off the street so we can talk about this somewhere more private. Without so many potential interruptions.”

“You’re right, of course. I know a place not far from here, it’s safe. Quiet. No cameras or hidden microphones, listening in. That’s important, you know?”

“Oh yes, without question.” This lady was clearly playing with several cards short of a full deck, but Darius didn’t care. In fact, he could only see how it could serve his purposes quite well, indeed. “And please, you lead the way.”

* * *

Fin showed up at John’s place a little after seven o’clock that evening. After lunch he’d gone back to his apartment for a while, stopping at the pet store to pick up some more food for Batman, checking out the other toys and supplies there, too. He’d rolled his eyes at some of the doggy Halloween costumes on display, but he had to get one he saw that was, perfectly enough, for Batman—complete with cape, bat-ears and a belt. Fin had to buy it and put it aside for later.

 _For Halloween, if we ever get out of this._ And he could re-rent that Batman costume for himself; John seemed to appreciate it. Back in his apartment, he put together a small bag of his own clothes to bring over to John’s, and some of Batman’s food and toys. It made sense, since at least their clothing items seemed to remain where they left them. And chances were he’d be spending more nights in the future at John’s—provided they both woke up there together in the morning, of course.

He let himself into John’s building and then the apartment itself after a sharp knock on the door. “Yo, John!” he called, to make sure his partner was home. Batman was right at Fin’s heels, sniffing around, excited for yet another adventure.

“In here,” came the reply. Fin followed the voice into the living room, where he found things in, well, a _new_ state of disarray.

Granted, he was used to seeing the walls of John’s apartment covered in gibberish and trash: tacked-up government documents and old letters, many redacted and filled with so much blacked-out text he didn’t know how they could make sense to anybody. That, along with photos and posters related to JFK and some of his other pet conspiracies, made up the majority of “decor” of the living room—particularly the nook where John had his desk and computer. But the papers along one wall had been taken down, tossed in a pile on his desk. In their place, John had tacked up a series of pages all written on cat litter and pet food bags.

“The hell is this?” Fin muttered, taking in what he could of the bizarre display. Colored tape connected one page to the next in a dizzying, web-like pattern.

“What I’ve been working on most of this afternoon,” John explained. He took a step back from his handiwork to bend down and pet Batman. “We know the notes we write on these litter-bag pages remain behind every same-day. I’m hoping so, too, will this presentation of them. I wanted to start getting more organized with our notes to help investigate what’s going on. See if that makes it easier to figure out what’s caused the loop. And then, how to escape it.”

Fin studied everything more carefully, trying to comprehend John’s visual logic. He recognized, first, the numerical list of days as they’d named them so far. Then there was the page written up at work one day, ruling out those around them who were obviously not stuck in the loop with them.

Next, he read over an expanded-upon list of the repeated elements of each day, including when and if they ever changed. That all appeared to be new notes organized by John. Another page connected to that one focused on Bullman and Wilkes: which days what had happened with them, the lingering questions as to both of their fates since Fin had “killed” Wilkes.

It was all thoroughly impressive, Fin had to admit. He had seen John in action like this at the precinct, usually taking over the white board with his scribbling and seeking out connections where no one else could find them. _“Visual organization helps me think,”_ he’d explained once. _“Sometimes the answer is right there, if you know not only_ ** _where_** _but_ ** _how_** _to look for it.”_

“So has it given you any ideas yet?” Fin asked.

“Some. Theories, possible explanations we haven't considered. Ideas for things we haven’t tried yet—whether they’ll break the loop or at least be interesting to see what happens.” He directed Fin’s attention to a sheet tacked to the far right. Fin read down the list, seeing notes about “driving west” or “flying east”, Time Zones, trying to pinpoint the exact time in the early morning when the day reset…and something labelled “Multiverse Theory”. Fin was going ask about that last item when he noticed another sheet with Gwen’s name at the top of it, connected by a line of tape to different page, titled…

“Darius?!” Fin exclaimed. “What the—” he turned to John, pointing at that page, and demanded, “When did _that_ son of a bitch get involved in all this?”

“As of this morning, near as I can tell,” John said, his expression grim. “But don’t worry. Too much. Yet,” he tried to soothe, but Fin wasn't going to be easily assuaged after even the mention of that name. “How about we go get some dinner, something to drink, and I’ll tell you about my morning. And you can tell me what happened with Ken. All right?”

Fin wanted to demand answers _now._ Then again, maybe he would do well with something in his system to calm him down first. “Yeah, okay. What’d you have in mind?”

“There’s an Italian place a couple blocks from here that’s decent. Let me grab my jacket.”

* * *

John went through the events of his day over their hearty dinner of garlic bread and spaghetti with meatballs. They had already talked about Fin’s lunch with Ken on the way over to the restaurant, and John was happy to hear that had gone well. Like Fin had said that morning, even if Ken forgot all about it next same-day, it had been at least a chance for them to talk, for Fin to figure out a way to approach his son. Some day, it could be more than a “rehearsal”.

And now, John tried to downplay his encounter with Darius, as upset as he, too, had been at the time. As much misery and grief as Gwen caused him, John didn’t like the idea of a parasite like Darius getting anywhere near her. But he didn’t want Fin to excessively worry; Gwen was John’s problem and he wanted it to stay that way.

“I still don’t like him hanging around your loony ex-wife,” Fin said.

“Neither do I, believe me! But in a weird way, maybe they’re a match made in heaven.” At Fin’s skeptical look, John explained, “He might think he can use her to some bizarre advantage against you, me and the rest of the NYPD. But that’s only because he doesn’t know how unstable she is. Besides, it’s not like either of them will remember come next same-day. This could be the only day she decides to organize a protest, and thus the only time they’ll cross paths.” He shrugged and took a sip of his wine. “And it’s good that we know what he’s up to these days, if nothing else.”

“I’ve known. Don’t think I haven’t kept tabs on him and that stupid-ass website of his, hoping he might do something we can put him away for good this time around.”

“Like another double homicide, as bad as the one we should have put him away for?” John asked. “I wouldn’t wish a repeat of that on anyone.”

“I know. But I also know he’s gotta mess up sometime, no matter how much he claims he’s cleaned up his act. A bad seed like that is never gonna be anything but poison.”

“True.” John realized he’d eaten as many meatballs as his stomach could handle, so he flagged the waitress over, asking for a take-home container for the rest.

“It’ll be gone come morning,” Fin reminded him.

“Batman or Marmalade might want some.”

“They’re gonna be spoiled rotten.”

“A spoiled pet is a happy pet.”

“More like a fat one. If I gotta put Batman on a diet I’m gonna blame you.”

They ordered dessert, despite being full: tiramisu for John, ricotta cheesecake for Fin. While they were waiting, Fin asked, “That list you had of things to try out on future same-days…”

“Uh huh.”

“What did you mean by multi…what was that?”

“Multiverse?” John finished for him. “Another possibility I thought of today when I got back to my place, did a little ‘light’ reading on theoretical physics.” He was no scientist and would never claim to be such. But he had a handful of books meant to break down some of the more out-there theories and advanced ideas for the layman. He tried to remember how one author had explained the concept of the multiverse in her book, so he could in turn relate it to Fin.

“All right. So. Normally we’re continually moving forward in _time_ —that’s one dimension,” he began. “And we can describe our location in four dimensions of space: t for time, plus x, y, and z for the physical coordinates. So for example, we’re here at this restaurant at 8:30 pm on the corner of 181st and Cabrini, on the first floor. That’s our t, x, y, and z.” John wrote that all down on a paper napkin he pulled from the metal container on their table. “Make sense?”

“Yeah, I’m with you.”

“We think in these terms because that’s what’s tangible to us. This is _our_ physical universe,” he said, holding up the napkin. “But what if we’re missing some other coordinate, or dimension of space. What if…” John picked up the metal napkin container in his other hand and looked at Fin. “What if each one of _these_ napkins represented another universe? What if there were an infinite number of them in this box? Ones that looked the same as ours, at least on the surface, but…little things, here and there, are all different.”

He put down the first napkin that he wrote on, and plucked a second napkin out of the container. “In _this_ universe, on Friday, October 23 2009, a couple decides to have sex in a public store with their six-year-old kid on lookout duty.” He pulled out a third napkin. “In _this_ universe, on that same day, the couple stays home, but Gwen decides she’s going to come looking for me at the precinct.” Again, he took out a napkin. “In _this_ universe, neither of those things happen. But an informant happens to walk by a warehouse and spots a guy entering who looks like a known rape suspect. Do you get what I’m trying to explain?”

Fin nodded. “Yeah. Alternative realities or universes, all existing at once. They did a Star Trek episode about that.”

“A couple of them, actually, but of course the original series version was the best. Anyway. My point is, what if somehow we’ve been thrown off the usual path forward in our universe, the path forward in time?” John drew a line on the first napkin. “Instead we’re moving through these different realities that all exist at once.” He stabbed the point of his pen into the pile of napkins he’d taken from the container. “We’re repeatedly here, at this same point in time, on the same _day_ , but in a universe that’s not exactly our own. Because it’s in fact another reality.”

Fin stared down at the impaled napkins. John wondered if his analogy had worked or not, if it was too “out there” an idea for his partner, but then Fin looked up with a critical expression. “Well if that’s the case, then where are the other you ’n me’s that should be existing in these other realities? Wouldn’t we be bumpin’ into them in our apartments—or at work?”

“I don’t know where they are. I thought of that, too. Maybe our being dislocated from our specific reality has affected them as well. They could all be jumping around from one reality to the next like we are. Maybe one of _them_ caused the problem, not us? And that’s why we can’t figure out how to get out of it?”

Fin let out a held breath and sat back, just in time for their desserts to arrive. “That’s some weird shit, man.”

“I know.”

“It… _kind_ of makes sense, I guess. But what about Batman and Marmalade? How are they getting dragged along with us now? And their things, and the money we spend on them?”

“Their immediate proximity to us could be to blame?” John shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t say it was a perfect explanation. But that’s part of why I was thinking we should try traveling outside of the city for the day. Maybe we somehow accidentally got close to a portal or vortex between universes. Getting away from it could break the cycle, get us back on track along a forward timeline.”

“But would that get us back to our original reality, or leave us stuck wherever we were now?” Fin asked.

“I have no idea. Does it matter?” John thought back on that first day, their “Day Zero” when and where this all began. Where he had his job and his partner Fin, but pretty much nothing else in his life. A few friends like Amy, but it was an existence driven by work and nothing else.

Now he had a pet—sweet little Marmalade, who could make him peaceful and calm just by being nearby. He’d had fun doing screwball things he never would have dreamed of doing in the past, like pranking Stabler and Tucker, and crashing a society ball in superhero costumes. And for the first time in over a decade he had a _very_ active and satisfying sex life. “If we end up in a reality where we’re in an improved place than we were before, who is to say there’s something wrong with that?” he said.

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, it’s just a theory. I could be completely wrong.” He collected up all the napkins and decided that was ample brain-bending ideas for the day. He wanted to savor his dessert…and then some quality time at home with Fin.

On the walk back to the apartment after dinner, they stopped in the neighborhood video store. Fin’s only request was that they pick a film that wasn’t too profound or serious, to which John agreed. Anything that looked too much like work was out: no police dramas, no murder mysteries. They ended up going for Catwoman, as bad as the clerk warned them it was, just because. Fin did seem to like superheroes and John was hoping for a little “inspiration”, should they choose to get into any kinky role-play some other evening…

The movie was as god-awful as they’d been told, and not even Halle Berry managed to keep Fin’s interest for very long. In fact John caught him drifting in and out of sleep at various points during the film. He eventually teased, “You’re not falling asleep on me before we can have some fun tonight, are you?”

“Nah. Catchin’ my after-dinner ‘cat nap’.” Fin stretched, then leaned in to rub his chin against John’s neck, tickling and teasing him with his goatee. “Unless you’re ready for that fun now, babe. ’Cause this film makes me think about you in that costume. You make a sexier Catwoman any day.”

John reached for the remote and turned off the dvd player. He got to his feet, ready to drag Fin with him. “We can entertain ourselves the rest of tonight.”

“Oh hell yeah.”

He had tidied his bedroom up a bit that afternoon, knowing Fin would be staying over. The bed had a fresh change of sheets—some of his favorite, high-thread count ones—and he’d put away his dirty laundry in a hamper where it belonged. It might be back all over the place tomorrow, but for now the room was much more inviting. Clutter and dirty sheets didn’t generally rev up his sex drive.

John sat down on the edge of the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt, taking in the gorgeous sight of his partner. Fin had dressed casual today, but he consistently looked good to John’s eyes, whether in a suit or simple sportswear.

_He looks even better naked._

“So what are you in the mood for tonight, babe?” Fin asked, not making a move yet, just taking in the sight of John as well.

“Besides you?” John slithered back invitingly on the bed, making room for Fin to climb on. He hadn’t finished undressing yet, but Fin crawled over him and pressed him onto the mattress with a hard kiss. After they separated, John teased, “Mmm…you know, I _was_ exceptionally naughty yesterday, scheming to get back at Elliot like that and causing so much mayhem…”

“Very naughty,” Fin agreed, before going for another kiss.

“I deserve a suitable punishment, don’t you think, hon?”

Fin didn’t moan or murmur his agreement. He practically roared it before taking hold of John’s wrists, pinning his hands down and claiming an even more demanding, longer kiss.

John loved being held captive like that, by Fin. _Especially_ Fin. He wasn’t always comfortable letting out his more submissive side, his yearning to give himself over for another’s use and amusement. It was hard to find someone he felt sufficiently safe with to do so. But there was no one he trusted more than Fin. No one else who made him this wild with need and craving. He could imagine being not merely held down by Fin but tied up, handcuffed to the bed or a chair. That mere thought almost made him come in his pants. He remembered he _had_ suggested spanking last same-day morning, and Fin had latched on to that possibility at the time.

And now, too, or so it seemed. Because Fin released John’s wrists to go for the belt of his pants, tugging at it roughly. John lifted his hips to wiggle out of them, and then his underwear as Fin yanked them off next.

“Roll over,” Fin ordered, sitting up on his knees. John did so, aware of the cold air on his bare ass, then Fin’s hands firm and grasping his skin. Fin yanked him up by his sides, until John was on his elbows and knees on the bed, panting with anticipation.

Fin rubbed and squeezed his ass, pushing the tail of John's dress shirt up his back. “Naughty boys need a solid spanking, don’t they?”

“Fuck, yes. Please,” John begged, whimpering when instead of a flat palm he felt a wet, hot tongue on the crack of his ass.

Fin licked and teased him between chuckles, then asked in a more earnest tone, “You want me to stop, you say it, okay? Or better yet, say ‘Stabler’. That seems like a good safe word to me, ’cause thinkin’ of him is an instant boner-killer.”

“You’ve got to _start_ doing something before I can _stop_ you,” John complained. And then he yelped in surprise as a sharp _crack_ landed on his right buttock. The initial shock of the strike soon turned into a stinging burn and he sucked in his breath.

“Like that?” Fin asked.

“Yesssss,” John hissed. “Again. Please.”

_Crack!_

The second blow stung worse, landing on already irritated skin. Pain bloomed and spread like a warm fire down his legs—Fin hit _hard—_ but it was _exactly_ what John wanted. The pain bled into increasing his arousal, and he could feel his already swollen cock hanging weighty, aching, hard. He wanted to touch himself, or preferably have Fin touch him. But…

_Crack!_

The third blow landed on his left cheek. The surprise shift made him yelp again, and then stifle a slight sobbing breath as Fin then rubbed his bruised ass with his hands.

“Damn, looks so fine all red like that. Bet it’s gonna burn when I fuck you, ’cause I’m gonna fuck you hard tonight.”

“You’d better.”

“But not yet. Only if you’ve had enough.”

“No…deserve…more. Please, Fin.”

“I do like it when you beg.” Fin’s hands dropped away and then—

_slap slap WHACK_

—two short spanks were following in rapid succession by a third, the most severe so far. John groaned, feeling weak in his arms and legs from the pain, coupled with his arousal. He wanted to fall down onto the bed, wanted to hump the mattress if Fin wouldn’t get him off otherwise, but Fin wouldn’t have it. “Don’t you move,” Fin told him, hands grabbing his thighs. “But tell me you got some, uh…”

“Lube?” John offered weakly. “Top drawer, nightstand…on the right.” He’d made sure to pick up some fresh at the drug store on his way home earlier.

“Good.” Fin surprised him with a couple more rapid slaps to the ass before jumping off the bed and going to the nightstand to search for the lube. He tossed it onto the bed and then quickly undressed, throwing aside his pullover, sweatpants and underwear. John could see he was fully aroused as well and licked his lips, wanting a taste…but Fin wasn’t even going to reward him with that tonight, or so it seemed.

“Damn you are as red as a tomato,” Fin laughed, rubbing a hand again over the inflamed skin. John squirmed, trying to relieve some of the tension in his groin by wiggling his hips, until Fin spanked him roughly again. “Stop that. You don’t get to come yet.”

“For someone who says he’s never done this before…you’re having _way_ too much fun.”

“You make me crazy, baby. What can I say.” And then John sucked in his breath and let it out with a long moan as a cold, lubricated finger glided into his ass. The contrast of that cool finger to his burning hot skin was almost unbearable.

“Fuck me hard, Fin, please! Fuck me until I’m screaming and the neighbors are pounding on the walls.”

“Trust me, I’m gonna.” Fin moved on to a second finger, stretching, all the time John continuing to beg and curse for more before the stinging of his ass subsided too much. Fin finally added a third, massaging and tormenting with those slick fingers while he gave John another couple slaps on the ass with his free hand.

“All right, that’s enough of that. Your bony ass is starting to make _my_ hand sting,” Fin complained. He withdrew his fingers and John gasped to feel hands on his thighs again, the head of that thick dick ready to stretch him out even more.

One slow, insistent push and Fin was in him. For that first moment the pain wrecked John’s nerves, made his vision go dark, that reaction of _can’t-take-it-too-much-too-big_ overwhelming him. Soon after Fin slid deeper, smooth and so solid, shock fading as the pain began to turn into something else entirely.

“So fucking tight, babe,” Fin purred. “Fuck…love fucking you.”

John could only moan and whimper in response. His shirt clung to his skin, sticky and nearly soaked through with sweat already. Every push inside hurt a little more, but brought him closer and closer to coming without even being touched. Fin finally had him balls deep and John groaned, Fin’s skin brushing, bumping up against his raw ass.

“That hurt?” Fin asked.

“Hurts…good… _fuck_.”

“Can’t hold back, babe. Gotta take you hard.” And Fin did, gripping John’s thighs and starting to thrust with abandon, practically jackhammering him. Every demanding push made John cry out, another bright flash of pain followed by a rush of pleasure, a want for even more.

And then Fin pulled out and, after a series of grunts, John felt hot come hit his ass, making it sting anew. “Aw yeah, that’s nice…real nice,” Fin sighed, then used his hands to rub the stickiness all over John’s sore skin. John was nearly in tears, driven mad by the pain, desire and denial. “Now lay down—on that ass,” Fin ordered him, “so I can finish you off.”

John did so, more or less collapsing on his weak elbows and knees. He winced as he rolled over, the sheets irritating his backside, still aching inside from getting fucked like that. But then Fin was on top of him again, spreading his legs and swallowing his erection in one long, unexpected suck.

John couldn’t even manage a coherent curse, just a heavy moan that became a desperate scream as Fin’s mouth granted him that desperately needed relief. He was so overloaded and over-sensitized that it took no more than a few good, full sucks to explode in Fin’s mouth, his hands clenched and pounding into the mattress.

He’d had some amazing orgasms this past week of same-days but _this_ one…this one nearly transported him to an alternative dimension all on its own. His ears were ringing from the rush of blood and his head pounding—or maybe, that actually _was_ his older neighbor Doris pounding on their common wall.

He didn’t give a fuck, as long as she didn’t call the police.

“Jesus… You okay, babe?” Fin asked, moving up the bed to embrace him.

“Jesus is right. That was an orgasm that could resurrect the dead.” John slipped near bonelessly into Fin’s arms, going for a languorous kiss, sharing the taste of himself on that tongue. His ass was starting to smart like mad now that the thrill subsided, and he shifted a little to take the pressure off. “Shit...Good thing we heal swiftly or else I might not be able to sit down tomorrow.”

“Wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Fuck, no. I mean, don’t expect me to be up for that _every_ night, but…” John trailed off with a blissful sigh. He was definitely feeling a bit floaty and disconnected at the moment, much like the buzz from taking a hit of high quality weed. That was something he hadn’t let himself indulge in for a great many years—and he’d gladly continue to abstain if Fin could get him just as high.

“As long as you’re good.”

“Mmm hmm.” He was _beyond_ good, but not up for talking much about it. Maybe tomorrow, next same-day, whatever it would be. Right now he wanted to bask in the afterglow and get a needed night’s sleep. And it would be easy to drift off with Fin here holding him, making him feel so secure and cared for.

* * *

Darius Parker headed home late that evening, his mind full of curious ideas.

He’d spent his afternoon listening to Gwen Munch, spinning all her many tales and conspiracies. Most of them were utterly outlandish and clearly the product of paranoid delusions, but amidst the madness he’d gleamed several curious truths and secrets.

As much as he thought he knew about John Munch and all the detectives at the 16th, it seemed there was perpetually new dirt to be unearthed. It was almost as if Christmas had come a couple months early and he couldn’t be more delighted about it.

She’d promised to email him more information, if he were interested (and could provide her with an email address he was certain was not monitored by the government). And he’d promised to spread the word of Peter Harrison’s “plight” to his readers—though how promptly he chose to get to that remained to be seen. He had his own reputation to maintain, of course, and wouldn’t throw his name in with a bunch of conspiracy theorists unless there were some glimmer of truth he could find and manipulate to his advantage.

But no, she herself was the prize for today. And he would do whatever he could to maintain and nurture that relationship…wherever it might lead.

 _“A friend is one who has the same enemies as you have.”_ Or so Abraham Lincoln had once said. And Darius was a man who could use all the friends like those he could find.


	17. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Fin go on a road trip, and get up to some fun in the great outdoors.

**Day 17**

Fin woke up to a beeping alarm, as usual. But something didn’t seem quite as it should be; it didn’t sound right to his ears.

Reaching out to silence the offending electronic device on instinct, his arm flailed about in empty space instead of making expected contact. “The fuck…?” he mumbled, blinking and looking around.  And then he realized the reason the alarm didn’t sound as it should and wasn’t where he expected it to be was that it wasn’t _his_ alarm. 

It was John’s.

He’d woken up in John’s bedroom, not his own. And that was a _good_ thing, he recalled, as memories started coming back about last same-day. They had ended up in bed together here the night before—in bed and for some _really_ hot sex. Last time he’d fallen asleep at John’s apartment he’d ended up at home in the morning, but that was before they’d started fucking.

But…considering that was case… 

_Where the hell was John?_

Batman was present and accounted for, curled up in bed where John should have been. Fin reached across and over the puppy to shut off the alarm, then gave Batman some morning ear scritches. Still, Fin was too confused and concerned to give his pet full attention. 

Troubled thoughts crowded and fought for attention in his sleep-muddled brain. Could John, for some reason, have woken up over at _his_ apartment in Brooklyn instead?

Or, _fuck_ …had John somehow escaped the time loop after all, only to leave Fin stuck here behind him?

That second possibility filled him with an overwhelming sense of panic, and his chest constricted with dread. He couldn’t help but remember those first few same-days when he’d thought he’d been alone in this mess. He couldn’t imagine enduring it without his partner now. So he jumped out of bed, skipping his usual morning piss in the bathroom to look for John.

...And soon he breathed a heavy sigh of relief to find the man in the apartment living room, sitting at his desk and working away at something on his computer. Marmalade was batting a toy mouse around his bare feet and John, dressed in a thin black robe and nothing else, looked like he’d been there for a while. The sight would have been more distracting if Fin wasn’t so stressed out over having woken up alone.

“Oh, hey,” John said, glancing up from the computer screen as he noticed Fin’s entrance.

“Hey yourself.” Fin walked over and hugged him from behind, needing that touch to completely quell his panic. “How did you get up so early?”

“Dunno. Woke up about 5:30 today, believe it or not. I guess I was excited to see if my project from yesterday would remain intact.” He waved a hand at the nearby wall where, sure enough, his flow chart made of cat litter pages was exactly as he’d arranged it last same day. “So it seems anything we do with these pages, not just writing on them, stays as is. That’s good to know. But sorry about the mess in the bedroom; in contrast, my cleaning efforts of yester-same-day were all for naught.”

“Didn’t even notice,” Fin said, dropping down on the sofa. He felt a bit foolish to have gotten so worked up, but given their predicament he never knew what could happen, one same-day to the next. He sure as fuck didn’t feel like rushing to get ready for another day of paperwork at the precinct, and John seemed in no hurry, either. In fact John went back to whatever he was typing away at, leading Fin to ask, “What’re you working on?”

“I decided that while I was up early I’d actually read and respond to that backlog of emails from Gwen. Or at least, tell her I’d read them all, considering a few were more than enough to get the general gist of things. ‘Dear Gwen, I appreciate your obvious concern and I agree this is an extremely serious matter. Let’s meet tomorrow at the usual place and you can tell me more’,” he recited off the screen. “Short and sweet, and given we haven’t had a ‘tomorrow’ to face with in over two weeks, I may _never_ have to deal with her.”

“You gonna do that every same-day morning from here on out?”

John shrugged. “Takes all of one minute, and if it keeps her from showing up at the precinct, or running into Darius at the courthouse? Then I consider that a fair price to pay.”

“Hmph.” Fin supposed that made sense. He wasn’t keen on dealing with Gwen soon again, either, though he wasn’t sure a simple email could stop her.

John got up from his desk and moved over to sit by Fin, nudging Fin’s thigh with one foot as he did so. “With that out of the way, what shall we do with this Friday, hon? You don’t look very enthusiastic about getting dressed for work.”

“Nah. Same shit all over again. I’ll pass unless we get some kind of emergency call.”

“So you want to back to bed for some more fun?”

“Man, I’m surprised you’re even sitting easy on that ass after last night, let alone pushin’ for another round.”

“I’m a little tender, but nothing too serious. The miracle of rapid time-loop healing has come through again. And once you’ve taken a bullet in the ass, let me tell you, some spanking fun is nothing in comparison.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Fin had to admit, last night had been a lot more exciting—and arousing—than he’d imagined it should have been. But this morning he couldn’t shake feeling a touch… _off_ about it. It was hard to reconcile wanting to look out for his partner, his best friend, and doing something intentionally to physically hurt him. And yet, the sex had been fucking mind-blowing amazing afterwards, and John seemed none the worse for wear about it today. If anything, he seemed more mellow and chipper than Fin had seen him in ages.

So he’d try not to worry or think about it too much. He looked over at the list of things John had written up that they hadn’t tried yet, things to potentially break the loop. “You want to start eliminating possibilities off your list today? Ways to get unstuck from this Friday?”

“We can certainly do that. Where do you want to start?”

Fin got back up, then walked over to examine John’s notes. He was glad he had nearly a decade of deciphering the man’s handwriting behind him already, because to anyone else his script would be as legible as hieroglyphics. “Suppose it’s a process of elimination, so we might as well start with the easy stuff first. Like…driving somewhere. ‘Driving west’,” Fin picked out. “Though, why west and not north, or south?”

“The Time Zone factor. Since we believe the day resets at some specific moment in the early morning hours, I wondered if we traveled far enough to enter a different Time Zone, how that might affect things. Besides of course the simple distance issue, in case this is a local temporal anomaly.” 

“That’d mean driving out to, like, Chicago.” Which was, perhaps, _technically_ doable, if they left immediately, ran into no traffic, made minimal stops and didn’t kill each other along the way. Possible, but not a hell of a lot of fun. 

John seemed to come to the same conclusion. “All right, so we’ll take a flight to test that, later on. But we could try driving a long distance out of the city for today. Across New Jersey, into Pennsylvania…ever been out to Amish Country, Fin?”

“Just driving through on extradition duty a few times. Why?”

“Pretty country. And we could have intercourse _in_ Intercourse!”

Fin frowned. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about and I’m not sure I want to know.”

“It’s okay. Let’s grab a shower, pack some stuff for Marmalade and Batman, and go for a road trip.”

* * *

Before leaving, they had a filling breakfast—no fucking strawberry yogurt today—at a diner near John’s apartment. It was a nice treat they almost never got to enjoy while rushing in to work most days. Soon after John was calling in the Chinese food excuse while Fin drove them, in John’s car, across the GW bridge into Jersey. 

He hung up and Fin asked, seeing a familiar exit up ahead, “You want to stop here first and see your uncle, since it’s on the way?”

John sighed. “Part of me feels like I should. But I’d rather not put a damper on my pleasant mood at the moment, you know?”

“Yeah.” Fin understood and, to be honest, was a bit relieved. He’d go there if John wanted to but institutions like that tended to make him uncomfortable. They drove on, with John having put a generic address for Pittsburgh in the GPS, since that was on the far west end of Pennsylvania. It showed they had about six hours on the road ahead of them, before figuring in traffic and stops.

“So that how far you think we should go today?” Fin asked.

“We’ll see. Maybe not as far as Pittsburgh, maybe farther. Depends on how much driving you feel like…and what we might stop for along the way. The little guys’ll be needing some pit stops, right?” John turned around to check on Marmalade, in her small cat carrier so she wouldn’t get underfoot, and Batman, who was pacing and jumping about on the back seat. Batman barked, and John said, “My girl’s fast asleep already. Looks like their both good travelers.”

“Better than you, at least until you got used to my driving.”

“I know to pre-medicate now.”

“You can get behind the wheel awhile, if you want.”

“I will if you need a spell. I just had the sense you’ve always preferred being the driver.”

John was right about that. Growing up in the projects, Fin had never owned a car—or even thought it necessary to have a license. That hadn’t changed until he joined the military. Cars were more of a hassle than a necessity in New York City, but once he’d started driving regularly, it had become hard to sit by and let someone else get behind the wheel.

Particularly Munch, who tended to drive like a ninety year old grandma on her way to Sunday service.

John stayed mostly quiet while Fin navigated the toughest part of the route, getting out of the congestion of northern New Jersey and around Newark airport. Fin didn’t need any distractions, so he only grunted on occasion when John asked if he could put the radio on, and if the volume/stations were okay.

Finally they made it onto I-78 and were on their way into Pennsylvania.  “Looks like about a hundred miles on this, then we’ll be gettin’ close to Harrisburg,” Fin said after glancing at the GPS.

“We can take a break at a rest stop soon for some fresh coffee and to walk Batman in a bit. Think the last sign said there’s one in about twenty miles.”

“’Kay.” Fin noticed that John had settled in with a clipboard and a stack of litter pages on his lap. He was scribbling something Fin couldn’t see while driving, so he asked, “What’s that?”

“Remember we talked about making a bucket list, a few same days ago?”

“Uh huh.”

“Thought that would be a project to work on while we’ve got the time the car. Even a couple different lists—things to do in New York City we’ve never done, general bucket list items…and then or course the sexual bucket list.”

“Sexual bucket list?”

“Thinks like last night, spanking. That’s one thing off _your_ list, even if it wasn’t a first for me.”

“Oh, right.” Fin fidgeted, thinking back on last evening, how turned on he’d been. “Maybe we shouldn’t work on that list while I’m driving.”

“It’s merely an intellectual exercise—for the moment. So tell me something you’ve never done before that you want to try. No judgement, no yay or nay on my part unless it’s a non-negotiable hard limit of mine.”

“All right. But I think we need to limit this list to things _neither_ of us have done. Make it more of a challenge.”

“I’m amenable to that,” John agreed. “So…give me something to start with, here.”

Fin pondered, thankful the traffic was light so he could spare the brainpower to have this discussion. “Uh, well, you know I haven’t been on the…receiving end yet. Dunno if you’ve done that before…being the top with a guy.”

“I have, but don’t worry…you’re definitely getting your turn soon. But that’s not a bucket list-worthy item.”

“So what is?”

“Well, how about…sex in a car,” John said, indicating their immediate surroundings.

“Done that,” Fin replied.

“Really? When.”

“Once when I was undercover. Teresa and I were already split up by then,” Fin recalled. “I sort of had a thing goin’ with this other undercover cop, from Vice—this woman Ava who was playin’ to be my top hooker.”

“And you were her pimp? That’s hot. Mm, you and I should play pimp and hooker some night.”

Fin spared a sideways glance at his partner. “No offense, but you don’t look the type, babe.”

“So you say now,” John replied suggestively, and Fin wasn’t sure if he was horrified or horribly intrigued. Most likely the latter, the more he thought about it. 

“Okay, so how about…put down role-play sex…with a _guy_ ,” Fin said.

“That would be a new one for me, too, so on the list it goes. But you know, I bet there are still things we could do in a car that you and I both haven’t done before.”

“Like what—or do I want to know?” 

“We’ll see,” John said, being cryptic, “when the time and place are right.”

“Still your turn, then, if you ain’t puttin’ it on the official list.”

“My turn, well…” John was quiet for a moment, then said, “Let’s go for an obvious one. Threesome?”

“Threesome, nope,” Fin admitted. He had a feeling his sexual “nope” list was going to be a lot longer than John’s. Though speaking of, as he turned and noticed John already writing, “You’re telling me _you_ never had a threesome? Mr. Free-Love-Hippy-Let-My-Freak-Flag-and-Big-Dick-Fly?”

“No, I’ve never had an official, actual threesome—despite trying to convince several of my exes in the past to give it a try.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re exes.”

John ignored Fin’s sarcasm. “I may have been involved in numerous substance-fueled _orgies_ in my youthful days, but there were far more than three bodies involved. I think. At least as much as I can remember.”

“I ain’t never been in an orgy and I don’t plan on it. That’s one of _my_ hard limits.”

“Fine. I can’t say it was exactly as phenomenal experience as it might seem. Too many body parts to keep track of, and someone always ends up with an elbow in the eye—or worse. Besides…sharing you with more than even one person could be a challenge for me.”

Something about the way John said the last part made Fin feel funny inside. Like he should make a joke about John getting attached when this was just about being fuck buddies helping each other through a crazy situation. But, before he could put any such thoughts in words, John said, “So we’ve got role play and threesome sex. Your turn next.”

“Uh…” Fin stammered, his mind suddenly blank. Or rather, preoccupied with the idea of having sex with John and someone else, which in reality _did_ seem pretty hot, the more he thought about it. “Uh…” his eyes scanned their surroundings as industrial North Jersey had begun to transform into rural Pennsylvania, grasping for any idea. “Sex outside?” he said, the idea hitting him suddenly.

“Hmm. Need to be more specific than that.”

“In a rest stop,” Fin suggested, since that was something they could attempt today. If either of them had the balls to do it.

“Done it. Not that fun, what with the idling trucks and exhaust fumes permeating everything.”

“On the beach?”

“Cliché. Old hat. And sand ends up getting in everywhere you _don’t_ want it to be, believe me.”

“In a park?”

John didn’t immediately answer. “That’s a possibility,” he eventually said. “I haven’t. Central Park after dark? Could be kind of fun.”

“Could be kind of dangerous.”

“Not for us. We’ve got weapons, badges, and we _know_ where the hook-up hang-outs are to avoid. Better choice than Riverside. There’s also Prospect Park near you and that’s almost as big and varied. Think about it.”

“All right,” Fin agreed. “So we got a park after dark…outside…on a boat?”

“This is starting to sound like a Dr. Seuss book. And I’ve done that.”

“Do I want to hear that story?”

“A fellow Homicide detective and brief partner of mine back in Baltimore lived on a houseboat.”

“And you fucked him?” 

“No, I brought him home one night after he’d nearly passed out drunk at the Waterfront. Took him home with my then girlfriend, one of my bartenders. The one who ended up becoming the fourth Mrs. Munch.”

“And you two screwed around on his boat while he was passed out? That’s pretty cold, man.”

“And Billie Lou was very, very hot. What can I say? But since we’re on an outdoor theme here with water, how about sex in the rain?”

“Hmm.” It was Fin’s turn to contemplate the possibilities. That was something he hadn’t done before. He certainly liked shower sex, especially with John, so taking it out into a rainstorm sounded like fun, too. “Only problem with that is we gotta find somewhere it’s raining on this day,” Fin realized. Every Friday October 23rd in New York City had so far had been sunny and dry.

“We can always check weather reports at the end of the day, see where there were storms. We might even get lucky today, driving out west into the mountains and farm country. In fact if we do, we’re stopping and knocking that off the list. Agreed?”

“Okay, agreed,” Fin said, albeit a bit distractedly as he was trying to navigate between several large tractor trailers. “Dammit, I fuckin’ hate the PA turnpike,” he complained.

“Whenever we get to wherever our final destination is for today, I’ll make the drive worth your while. If not sooner.”

Fin had no doubt John would do exactly that, so he stopped complaining and kept driving.

* * *

They made their first pit stop at a rest area outside of Allentown. Fuel, coffee, and a chance to stretch their legs were all much appreciated after over two hours on the road. Fin took Batman for a walk in the designated dog area while John was inside getting their drinks, and some snacks for the road.

“We’re in luck, Fin!” John proclaimed, running to Fin and handing him his coffee. “Let’s get back in the car and haul ass.”

“What’s up?”

“Caught the local weather on the tv inside, while waiting for our drinks. There’s apparently a big stormfront moving East from Ohio, and we’re driving right into it.”

“That’s lucky for us? How?”

“Sex! In the rain!” John said, loud enough that a few heads turned and Fin flinched, wishing he could legit pretend he didn’t know the man for a second. “But I want us to be far enough past what qualifies for civilization around here, namely past Harrisburg, when we run into it. Beyond there and it’s all cow pastures and coal mines straight through to Pittsburgh.”

“I ain’t having sex in a coal mine,” Fin objected.

“Good, because neither am I. But let’s get moving.”

* * *

From Allentown to Harrisburg, John wouldn’t shut up about his damn sexual bucket list. They’d discussed far too many kinks (Ropes and some other bondage-related ideas? Cautious yes, though not many things John hadn’t done already. Choking? Double fucking _no_ , they’d seen _that_ go bad too often on the job). They’d come up with ludicrous locations (Fin wanted to see how the fuck John was going to pull off sex in a castle. But he was _not_ saying yes to sex in a coffin. Not even if John had an old partner who swore it was the hottest sex he’d ever had, and John had a brother who could get them a coffin at wholesale prices.) They talked about food (ew) and other substances (legal and non) until Fin was almost to the point he was feeling sexed out without even _having_ any sex today.

“Let’s work on another list for a while,” Fin suggested.

“Let’s take another pit stop before my bladder explodes,” John said, pointing to the sign that said the next rest area was ahead in five miles.

When they got beyond Harrisburg, the skies were starting to look more ominous and threatening. The dark clouds made for a dramatic contrast to the trees in full autumn color lining the fields and pastures all along the drive. “Lots of cows out here,” Fin said, as they passed one farm after the next. “Not fucking you in front of a cow.”

“We’ll look for a hay field. Or a woodsy area where we can be discreet.”

“You really are nuts, Munch.”

“I didn’t hear you saying no to the idea. Besides, what’s the worse that could happen? Someone spots us and we get arrested for indecent exposure? It won’t matter come next same-day anyway.”

“Unless there isn’t a next same-day.”

“I’d spend a night in jail to make that happen. Hey, there’s one for the list—prison sex.”

Fin shook his head and drove on.

About a half-hour later and they caught up with the storm at last. The rain started as spotty drops, sporadic sprinkling against the car windshield. Soon, however, they found themselves driving straight into a steady downpour. Traffic was light but cars were slowing down, lights on to navigate around winding turns.

“Big enough rain storm for you?” Fin asked.

“Hell yeah. Let’s keep our eyes peeled for the next emergency pull-off—one that’s empty and has some cover.” 

In a few minutes John pointed and said, “There! Perfect, up ahead.” Sure enough, the shoulder was free of other cars and in a forested area, as they were in more hilly and less flat country. Fin put on his hazard lights and pulled over, parking as if they were making a necessary piss or stretch break. Batman barked, thinking they had stopped for a walk.

“Now or never,” John said to Fin, taking off his coat to leave in the car.

“All right.”

“Sure you’re up for this?”

“No,” Fin took a deep breath, then sighed. “But like you said, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“That’s the spirit.” And then John opened the door, cursed at the rain pelting down, and shouted, “Follow me!”

Fin swore under his breath and followed, getting out the driver’s side. The rain was shockingly chilly and he sucked in his breath—along with a big gulp of water. “Motherfucker it’s _cold!”_ he shouted, rushing after John who was already making his way into the brush and trees.

“So hurry up and get over here!” 

Fin locked the car—the last thing he wanted was for someone to come along and let out Batman and Marmalade in this storm—and headed off after John.

John, who had found a small dip down beyond the first line of roadside trees and was shouting at Fin, “Watch your step!” 

Indeed, already fallen leaves made the footing slippery. Fin came close to wiping out as he tried to catch up with his partner over rocks and muddy ground. “How far you goin’?” Fin called.

“Here will work.” They were about thirty feet in from where the car was parked, but between the rain and the trees, and being a few feet down from road level, it was doubtful anyone could notice them—not even if they pulled over behind their car in the emergency stop. John was already starting to shed his soaked knit top and undershirt, laughing like a little kid as he did so.

“You are fucking nuts, Munch,” Fin said, for not the first time that day. 

“I know.” And as Fin caught up with him, John pulled him into a kiss, the rain pelting them through the trees. John’s hands started tugging at the drawstring on Fin’s sweatpants, and Fin honestly couldn’t believe they were doing this—stripping in a downpour, off the PA turnpike, cars and trucks whizzing by just out of sight and... “Shit, lube,” Fin realized they’d forgotten, pulling away from the kiss. 

“Don’t worry,” John said, going for his own belt and shrugging down his pants. “At that last pit stop I prepared myself.”

“Goddamn.” Fin didn’t waste another minute completing his own strip-down. It was cold, he was drenched and chilled to the bone, but somehow the excitement was catching up with him to see John naked out here in the (near) wilderness, water dripping down all over him as he grinned and looked so delighted by it all. And thinking about John having lubed himself up, waiting to get fucked, made Fin hard and ready. “Dick monster, gonna fuck you up against one of these trees, turn around.”

“Oh, like this?” John struggled a bit to get his wet pants over his shoes, then took a few steps further on to find a thick trunk to grasp, splaying his legs invitingly. Fin’s cock twitched in anticipation, seeing the remnants of bruising on that ass from last night. He moved in (after struggling with his _own_ pants—also leaving his shoes on because not knowing what was underfoot it seemed like a wise idea) and rubbed it with his hands. 

“Oh yeah, babe, feels good.” Fin leaned down and took a moment to lick the rain off John’s back, where it was trailing along his spine to his backside. John moaned and then Fin heard a rumbling sound in the distance. “Shit, guess we’d better hurry up.” Rain was one thing but thunder and lighting were a different matter entirely. Also, it was too fucking _cold_ to take too much time enjoying themselves.

“Fuck me hard, Fin. I want to feel your cock in me all the way to Pittsburgh.”

Fin wasn't about to say no to that request. He got into position, not even bothering to use his fingers for any stretching because he didn’t want to end up needing more lube they didn’t have on hand. A few quick strokes with his hand, to make sure he was fully erect, and he pressed the tip of his cock against John’s entrance. John felt somewhat tense but he was slick, _definitely_ well-lubed, and so with only small effort and a few short pauses for relaxing and stretching, Fin was in and in _good_.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Fin gripped John’s waist, angled him down a little more, and started thrusting. John groaned; Fin loved that sound. It was almost a trigger, making him harder, more desperate, wanting to do anything to keep John making those sounds. He felt wild, almost possessed with the need to fuck like animals in the open air. “Mm hmm…ass feels so tight, baby. Fuckin’ love it.”

“Love your cock in me. Take me…harder, Fin, make me come.”

“Stroke yourself, while I’m doin’ you. Let me hear you gettin’ off.” Fin couldn’t quite manage a reach-around, in his current position, but he wanted to make sure John enjoyed this as much as he did. And John was being even more vocal than usual, since they had the rain and the traffic and the occasional rumbles of thunder to cover for them.

“Fuck me, Fin! Come on, fuck my ass, oh God…fuck, like that… _fuck_ …gonna come.”

“Do it, baby!” Fin panted between thrusts. “Come for me…come on…”

He heard John groan, even louder than before, his body shaking, and that was the last prompt Fin needed to push him beyond the edge into his own orgasm. He shuddered and it flooded through him, quick and so strong he almost thought he saw stars.

Then he realized it was a flash of lightning. “Shit.” He knew they couldn’t linger around long anyway, but he would like a few moments to try to collect himself—and his clothes.

“Yeah…we’d better hurry back to the car.” John pushed himself into a fully standing position, wincing at the effort. He looked utterly ridiculous (though still weirdly sexy) drenched in the rain, his hair matted down, glasses covered in rain drops, and in nothing but his shoes and dark socks. Before Fin could do anything else, John grabbed him for a last kiss, rubbing up close against him. “Mm, that was fun.”

“Mm hmm.” Fin breathed in and savored the naked, wet embrace for one more moment. And then another rumble of thunder, sounding significantly closer, startled them apart.

“Clothes. Car. Let’s go ’cause I’m freezing my ass off,” Fin said, and John nodded in hasty agreement.

* * *

The ride to the next rest stop was not all that comfortable—the price to be paid for their rainstorm adventures. Even with the heat going at full blast it was difficult to shake off the chill from being soaked head to toe and stuck in their heavy, wet clothing. 

“Glad we packed overnight bags, in case we _do_ end up…wherever we end up later, in the morning,” Fin said once they’d had the chance to run inside the building and change. They’d grabbed more hot coffee and some burgers and fries to enjoy in the car while waiting out the worst of the storm. Batman even got his own roast beef sandwich, while John gave Marmalade a can of kitten chow.

“Always plan ahead,” John replied. Marmalade had climbed out of her carry case and sitting on John’s shoulder, licking at his still-damp hair.

“Speaking of which, we’ve only got sixty miles or so to Pittsburgh, according to the GPS. You want to spend the night there, or keep goin’?”

“Depends on how you’re feeling behind the wheel. On one hand, I’d love to travel as far as possible from New York. On the other hand, we’ve already traveled something like…three hundred miles. And it’s getting on to five o’clock.” John shrugged. “Maybe we should enjoy the evening in a nice hotel in the big city.”

“One that doesn’t mind pets.”

“Before we leave, I’ll run in and grab one of those hotel travel guides. I can make a couple calls once we’re on the road, see where I can make us a reservation.”

“All right.” Fin finished his burger, and started collecting the trash so John could toss it out when he went back inside. He felt a sneeze coming on and reached for one of the napkins, covering his nose right before it hit.

“Gesundheit.”

“Thanks.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. Just a sneeze.” Fin sniffled.

“Hope you’re not coming down with a cold.” 

“Doubt it. ’Sides, even if I do, we heal up from everything fast in this loop. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t need Munch the Chronic Hypochondriac to strike because he’d sneezed once. 

“Maybe I should pick up some Nyquil inside. Or Dayquil since we don’t need you falling asleep while driving. Though if you want me to drive while you stretch out and nap in the back, I—”

“John,” Fin said, firmly. In his voice that meant _shut-the-fuck-up-before-I-have-to-shut-your-mouth-for-you_. John sighed and shrugged, knowing the discussion had ended.  

He eased Marmalade down from her perch to put her back in her case. “I’ll go get that travel guide since the rain is letting up.”

“Right.”

“And I’m still picking up some Cold-eeze if nothing else,” he added as he opened the door and dashed out, before Fin could say anything to stop him.

* * *

It took longer than expected to get into downtown Pittsburgh, thanks to a traffic accident and the remnants of the bad weather—and getting there around rush hour on a Friday evening. John had found a hotel on the North Side near Heinz Field which accepted pets. Since the Steelers were out of town this weekend it had ample availability, even at the last minute. 

“You ever been to Pittsburgh before?” John asked as they drove over one of the bridges spanning the Allegheny River.

“Nope.”

“Neither have I. So I guess we can cross sex in Pittsburgh off the bucket list after tonight.”

“Why would that even be a bucket list-worthy thing?”

“I don’t know. Sex in every state in the continental United States seems like a admirable goal. We’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Well we already had sex in Pennsylvania earlier today.” He _was_ in fact feeling slightly off, since their rainstorm adventure, but he wasn’t going to admit it to John. And it was probably nothing that a hot shower, warm bed, and solid night’s sleep wouldn’t solve. 

After checking in, John set up Marmalade with the spare litter box he’d packed for the journey, they fed both pets, and then set out for a walk with Batman. Fin needed to stretch his legs after that drive and the puppy was eager for the exercise as well. 

The stroll along the waterfront was pleasant, seeing the sun go down and the lights come up across the river, these unfamiliar skyscrapers and landmarks.

“Kinda nice bein’ somewhere different,” Fin said.

“Mm. Don’t get to travel much with our job, unless it’s on the hunt for or to pick up a prisoner.”

“I never really traveled much anyway, ’cept with the army. Too expensive. You?”

“In my younger days. Hitching around, spending time here and there until I got homesick for Baltimore. I always thought I’d get to see more of the world, though.”

“Ain’t that what retirement’s for?”

“Yeah, sure. Wait until you’re too old and decrepit to appreciate any of it.” John shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. “We should try flying to Europe one of these same-days.”

“That was on your list,” Fin remembered. “See if we can fly through the reset hour?”

“Exactly. And also, if it works, to actually visit another country. You have a current passport, right?”

“Think so.”

“So we’ll give that a try. If it doesn’t work, that’s one more thing to eliminate. And if it _does_ work…I think it would be neat to spend a _Saturday_ morning watching the sun rise over the Thames. Or having espresso under the shadow of the Coliseum.” 

Batman barked at a passerby walking her Shih Tzu in the opposite direction. “Easy boy,” Fin coaxed him, then said to John, “We’ll have to leave the pets behind on that trip.”

“I bet your neighbor Mary wouldn’t mind pet-sitting them for a few days.”

“Yeah. And it would be nice,” Fin had to agree. In fact it made him feel sort of wistful, wondering if they’d ever get the chance to travel together in the future—travel further than they could make it in one day before the clock reset on this Friday. He wanted to see those things John had mentioned.

To get to see them _with_ his partner. 

“I’m getting hungry. You?” John asked.

“Little bit. Looks like there’s a bunch of sports bars near the hotel, want to give one of them a try?”

“Sure. Let’s drop off Batman and freshen up a bit first.”

* * *

After a dinner of beer, chicken wings and pierogies, both men felt too full and satisfied to venture forth and explore more of the city. They retired to their hotel and stripped down for bed, Fin burying himself under as many blankets as he could—even pulling the spare heavy flannel one out of the hotel room closet.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, hon?” John asked with concern.

“’M fine. Just a bit chilled from before.”

“Let me do what I can to warm you up.” John snuggled close, his body heat very welcome. He kissed Fin’s shoulder, his neck, worked his way up to Fin’s lips. Fin kissed him back, enjoying the gentle comfort and tenderness after their earlier craziness outside. “Feel better?”

“Little bit. Though…ain’t sure I’m up for much else tonight,” he apologized. He should be raring to go, but he felt unusually achy and tired. He wanted to blame the drive, not getting sick, if only because he didn’t want to prove John correct in his worries.

“S’ok. I’m content to savor our earlier adventure.” John nuzzled his lips against Fin’s ear and said, “Can still feel you inside me, like I told you I wanted.”

“Mmm.” Those words normally would have been enough to make Fin want to immediately pounce and fuck John senseless again. So he knew he couldn’t be feeling one hundred percent if he only wanted to settle in and catch some sleep. Batman jumped up on the foot of the bed, and in a few minutes he could hear Marmalade purring near their heads as well. John chuckled softly as he moved apart, for a moment, to flick off the nightstand light. It was a warm sound that made Fin think of his joyous laughter from earlier. That memory made Fin smile as he started to drift off to sleep. 

Because, he realized, the sound of John’s laughter was something truly wonderful, and something he’d rarely heard before. And he was determined to do what he could to hear it far more often from here on out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apologies for the VERY long delay in getting this next chapter out! The summer was a busy time for a lot of reasons but this story is back—and we are both back to working on it together again. It WON'T be another three months before the next chapter, that's for certain.
> 
> Comments and feedback as always most welcome!


	18. Stranger Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Fin wakes up still sick from the previous day's misadventures, John makes several surprising discoveries—including finding a former colleague returned from the dead.

**Day 18**

John woke to the ringing of Fin’s alarm. _Huh, so back to Fin’s house._ Fin was waking slowly, blearily, a sneezing fit startling John. John pressed his hand to Fin’s forehead and frowned.

“You’re definitely sick, hon,” he said.

“Mmph, no, I’m not,” Fin protested, his voice scratchy.

“Yeah, you really are.”

“Your fault. Your dumb idea, sex in the rain.”

“Oh, don’t even pretend you didn’t enjoy it as much as I did.”

“Mmph,” Fin groaned, burrowing into the blankets. “I’m not getting out of bed today. And _no_ , I’m not having sex all day, either, you dick monster.” He sneezed again and reached for the tissues he kept on the nightstand. “Ugh, I feel like shit, John.”

“Rest, my sweet prince,” John said.

“Don’t you ever call me that again,” Fin threatened. The threat was undercut by Fin blowing his nose and sniffling, and John laughed.

“How are _you_ so disgustingly healthy?” Fin asked.

“Don’t know. Probably will catch your cold, if it’s any consolation. Stay, I’ll make sure the pets made the return trip safely, then I’ll answer those stupid emails from Gwen and make you some tea.”

“Tea first. After the pets.”

“Yes, Master.”

Fin groaned at that. Not a sick groan, an interested one. A semi-interested one, at least, since he was too sick to pursue anything sexual.

“Ooh, like that, do you? We’ll have to remember it for when you’re better. I think I’ll enjoy calling you that, _sir_.”

“Stop it, you menace. Make sure Marmalade and Batman are around, would you?”

“On it.” John got out of bed, noting that his pajamas were on. Definitely not what he had fallen asleep in. Huh. Hopefully the pets had made the return trip; he really didn’t want to drive out to Pittsburgh to go grab them. Especially if Fin was feeling sick. John doubted that he could make it out to Pittsburgh and back in time.

Marmalade and Batman were curled up in their respective beds, sleeping, and John petted them tenderly before going to make tea for Fin and coffee for himself. He was happy to see the pets had automatically tagged along for the return trip, even if it meant that they were all still stuck in this stupid fucking loop. Traveling west didn’t work, then. Maybe they hadn’t gone far enough? But they had gone several hundred miles, surely the circle of influence wasn’t _that_ big?

Maybe they had to go further? Well, the only way to accomplish _that_ would be to get on a plane, John decided. Even with Fin’s driving, they could hardly manage more miles. Maybe another hundred, but Fin would tire eventually, and Fin had zero tolerance for the way John drove. He’d be taking back the wheel in no time just to spare himself that.

Tea and coffee done, John put the coffee down next to the laptop and took the tea to their bedroom. He paused at the thought. When had _Fin’s_ bedroom become _their_ bedroom? It wasn’t, he told himself. It was _Fin’s_. He was a guest. A preferred guest, that’s all. They were just friends and fuck-buddies.

But it had felt really, really right to call it their bedroom, even in his head. Sent a warm glow through him. Their bedroom, their bed.

He chased the thought away. No. This was Fin’s place, Fin’s room, Fin’s bed.

John had no claim to any of it. And the thought definitely didn’t make him sad.

John set the mug of tea down next to Fin. “Hey, sleepy, got your tea. Marmalade and Batman are here, don’t worry.”

“Oh, good,” Fin said, sneezing again. “I should have NyQuil somewhere in the bathroom cabinet, mind finding it for me?”

“Going back to sleep already?”

Fin side-eyed him. “I’ve had colds before, John. NyQuil, tea, and sleep, and I’ll be right as rain—no, bad choice of words there—I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“Should be, the loop accelerates healing.”

“Shut up. What are you going to do today?”

“Go to the precinct. I was planning on looking into old cases, see if there are any hints there into what’s going on. What if we need to solve an old case to get out of this? Right some injustice?”

“You’re clutching at straws.”

“We’ve been doing this for what? Two, three weeks now? Straws are all I have left now, Fin.”

“You’ve got me.”

John pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I do. But I’d like to get out of this loop, _with_ you, thank you. So I’ll go look at those old case files. I’ll tell Cragen you’ve got a cold, you sleep, hon. I’ll just send those emails to Gwen first.”

John quickly sent off the emails, rolling his eyes as the nuttiness spilling forth in Gwen’s messages. The usual hullabaloo about false imprisonment that he’d been hearing from Gwen since this loop started.

One of the messages made him pause, as he picked up something he hadn’t previously. _“We all think...”_ it began.

Who all?

Was this all over those boards? He supposed he should check it out—what kind of support had Gwen drummed up? John remembered the protest he had interrupted—that _Darius_ had found. How many more people were involved? The only person he could talk down reliably was Gwen, but this was a situation he wanted to keep an eye on. Hopefully, Gwen was the driving force behind it, but John felt like he needed to make sure of that.

Sighing, and with distaste, John pulled up the old boards.

He didn’t like to any more. It reminded him of times he had put behind himself. Of Gwen. Of... crazier days. Fin might joke that John was plenty crazy now, but Fin hadn’t known John in the past, when his paranoia had been at its full height. John was _sane_ now in comparison.

And the way the world was going, the way conspiracy theories were going these days, John wanted to put as much distance between himself and them. The alt-right? The MRA? Contrails? The birthers? He wanted no ties to them. He didn’t want anyone ever thinking he was one of them. He had lost a lot of interest in even his old theories lately.

John skimmed the boards about Peter Harrison and noted, with grim satisfaction, that it _had_ been Gwen instigating the most of it, people rallying around her. Blaming the NYPD and Stuckey for everything. Good. Hopefully his daily messages would prevent anything more.

Hopefully.

Because the last thing Gwen needed was to fall in with Darius.

Other threads caught his eye, and he frowned deeply. More vile shit. More vile shit he had hoped never, ever to see. Contrails, which had made him laugh deeply the first time he had heard it, and now just made him so tired.

Racist, vile shit. Just so, so much of it. He had been deeply affected by the birther movement, knew what was coming when it first started up.

A name caught his eye. One of the poster’s names caught his eye, and the cursor hesitated over it. Starr Morrison.

It couldn’t be. No... Not... It _had_ to be a coincidence, he thought.

John thought back to their interactions with RAW, with meeting Starr Morrison, or rather, Dana Lewis, undercover FBI. Surely, if it _was_ the same Starr, this was part of the undercover work.

He clicked on it hesitantly. He doubted he wanted to see any of this. It would make the knot in his stomach tighten, make the bile rise, but he _had_ to know.

He was right. It _did_. It pressed on him, acid burning in his throat as he read. He felt ill, violently ill, as he read Starr’s screed. It didn’t sound right, it didn’t sound like the pablum any undercover agent would put out. It sounded... _real_. Disturbed.

Part of him wanted to forget he had ever seen it. He wanted to forget that it existed and to scrub his memory of it. It was over, anyway. Dana Lewis had left. There was no need for him to read this.

Part of him knew that she was still out there, still working, and that this was big. That if she really held these views, she needed to be reported. He needed to know. He had to read these. He had a duty. He had taken an oath.

He pushed his coffee away, realizing that if he put anything in his stomach now, it would only come up again. Even the rich smell was affecting him, turning his stomach further.

He clicked on her name, bringing up more and more posts. She had been active.

With his teeth gritted, he started clicking through her posts, printing each one out. He knew who to bring these to.

And each one was awful. Too real. Too invested. The hatred on each page, it spilled across his eyes. He hadn’t been that badly affected by the case itself, writing the bigots off, but knowing that this was put out by an actual FBI agent? This hurt. This was different.

She was calling for the extermination of every non-white, and there was no all-caps, no devolvement of language, it sounded all so _calm_. Just pure hate in every sentence. Utter filth.

The post that made John finally stop reading was dated several months after Dana Lewis had left their case. That alone had given him pause, because it confirmed, to him, that it was more than undercover work. That this wasn’t just for getting in with RAW. But the content of the post made him see red. He had never actually seen red, never known it was a possibility, but now he was seeing the world through shades of red and taking deep breaths to make sure he didn’t pass out from the anger.

This post was calling the shooting at P.S. 74—the shooting that started that whole case—a false flag attack. A conspiracy, where no kids had died, with actors.

John felt sick. John felt _violent_. He wanted to slam something, break things. There were posts, other posts, backing it up, spinning it out of control, making it its own theory, its own conspiracy.

All John wanted was to curl up with Fin, share this with him, share his pain. He held back. Fin was sick. He didn’t need this.

Neither did the person who John was about to dump this shit on, but John couldn’t help that. _Someone_ needed to see this.

* * *

John knocked on Huang’s office, clutching the printouts. “Can I talk to you?” he asked.

Huang smiled up at him. “Of course, John,” he said softly. “What can I help you with?”

“I found some... disturbing things today, and I want you to take a look.” He put the printouts in front of Huang.

Huang scanned them quickly, frowning. “There’s so much hate here,” he murmured sadly. “But you know that already. Why bring this to me?”

“Because it was written by Starr Morrison. Also known as Dana Lewis.”

Huang recognized that name immediately. “She was undercover, wasn’t she?”

“Does that sound like she was just undercover, Doctor?”

Huang read it more carefully, poring over each post. He shook his head finally. “No, it doesn’t. Especially this last one you printed out. Claiming it was a false flag attack? That’s not simply putting something out to maintain her cover. Thank you for bringing this to me, John. I’ll alert my superiors immediately.”

He neatened the stack of papers, frowning deeply.

John knew that this wouldn’t matter the next same day, that Huang would forget, that the FBI would have lost these posts, but John would make a note, and if they ever broke free of the loop, he’d bring it to Huang’s attention again. He was glad, though, that he now had confirmation that this was more than just being undercover.

It still troubled him. Ate at him. He expected this from nutjobs, but to think an FBI agent was capable... he shook his head. Sharing this with Huang hadn’t helped as much as he had thought.

Huang looked up. “This bothers you, John.”

“It does,” John admitted. He sat down in one of the chairs. “I don’t even know where to start sorting out my feelings about all this, really.” He sighed heavily.

“I have a bit of time, if you want to try,” Huang offered. “You know I’m always here to listen.”

“Who listens to you?”

“Ryan used to,” Huang said softly. “Before his death.”

John looked shocked. “O’Halloran?”

“Well, when you’re dating, you tend to call them by their first name,” George said wryly. “I see that’s a surprise to you. He was the sweetest man. I miss him terribly. We were together five years.”

“I... I’m sorry, George. I never knew.”

“We didn’t keep it a secret. Just quiet.” Huang rubbed his face. “We were going to get married. I had proposed and everything—right after the state assembly passed same-sex marriage legislation. If it got through the senate we were going to be the first in line to get married.”

“Of course it’s been months and those nervous bastards haven’t had the guts to even vote on it yet,” John spit out in annoyance.

George tilted his head, looking puzzled. “What do you mean? It passed last month.”

John frowned, as he wondered if his memory was failing him. Not that he’d been following the political news about it _that_ closely, but he’d always felt everyone should have the same right to make themselves miserable in marriage as he had—be they straight, gay, or whatever. He could check into that easy enough, though, so he brushed off his confusion. “Sorry, I must have missed that.”

George nodded as if it were no big deal, as he seemed preoccupied with his own bittersweet memories. “We were so happy that day I proposed, and everything seemed to be falling in place. Thinking about finding a new, bigger place to live, somewhere we could build our family. But then, it was...” He paused and cleared his throat. “It was only two weeks later that Stuckey killed him.”

John opened his mouth to say something. Huang took a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’ve learned to accept he’s gone. I’ll move on. It’s hard...I feel that I should have noticed Stuckey’s instability and that his insecurity could turn deadly. But even so, would it have been soon enough to stop him from killing anyone? From killing Ryan? Who can ever say.”

John grasped his hand. “I never knew to say it, George. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, John. Why don’t you tell me why this is bothering you so much?”

John laughed mirthlessly. “After your story? It’ll just be whining.”

Huang smiled wanly. “Take my mind off it, rather. Work’s been helping get me through.”

John nodded—he knew that feeling well. Work had helped him get through plenty before. He could only imagine how Huang had been holding it together. He didn’t know how he had missed that O’Halloran and Huang had been together for that long. He was glad they had found each other, they must have made a great couple. Both of them sweet, and deep, and loving. So much to offer. John felt so deeply for Huang, who had that cut short so violently. John had seen it so often, on his job, and his mind skittered to Fin.

He shook that thought off. They weren’t in love. Best friends and sex partners, that was all. There was no reason to compare Fin to what Huang had with O’Halloran. Not at all.

Huang was looking at him expectantly. “John?”

“Sorry, lost in my own thoughts for a moment.” He leaned forward. “I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much bothering me about this. An FBI agent, doing this?”

“But it goes deeper than that. You know there are always dirty cops and dirty agents.”

“I do. And honestly, I never trusted her. There was always this feeling in my gut that she was bad news. You’re right, there’s more. I’m sure you’ve realized I don’t always believe everything we’re told to.” He gave a half-grin at that.

Huang laughed. “No, I’ve never noticed, John,” he said dryly.

“Oh, Kennedy was a big one of mine. Still is, I suppose. But... this new stuff? It makes me want to be a sheep. I don’t ever want to be lumped in with this new group. I don’t ever want anyone thinking I agree with any of this vile shit. Where did it go wrong, Huang? Where did this all go wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where did it go from fighting for personal liberties to hating everyone? Where did this all come from?”

“There’s always been hate and fear. This is nothing new, John. We’ve had violent hatred forever. The Nazis are a _recent_ memory. The KKK has been operating since the 1800s.”

John nodded. “1865. And I know. This is why it disturbs me so much. Aren’t we supposed to get _better_ with time? Shouldn’t past atrocities teach us not to do it again? Is this what we fought in WWII for? So that this could start in our country, too?”

Huang looked at John thoughtfully. “You never struck me as an idealist, John. You’ve always struck me as someone who’s well aware of the darker nature of humanity.”

“I’m not naïve. It’s just disheartening. It’s...” his voice fell to a whisper. “It’s making me question some of my deepest beliefs, doctor.”

Huang let the silence stretch, waiting.

John spoke finally. “You know how I feel about the First Amendment, doc. It’s sacred to me. I’ve always believed that. And now... I’m starting to question it. Should these people have the right to spread this filth, when it leads to death? Even if it’s not a specific act? It incites violence and death. And... I don’t like myself questioning this. I _hate_ that I’m questioning this. I’m _angry_ that I’m questioning this. If we go down this road, where would it stop? What would be protected anymore?”

“These are serious questions, John. And people whose job this is don’t have answers, either.”

“People whose job this is aren’t there because they’re qualified but because they were likable to the simpletons.”

“What would it mean to you if the First Amendment had asterisks?”

“I don’t know,” John admitted. “I don’t know if I’m that far yet. I’m struggling with this, though. All my life, I’ve believed in this.”

“Loss of faith is always hard to cope with, John. Just because your faith isn’t in God, but in ethics, doesn’t mean losing it is any easier.”

John had never thought of it that way. He had no experience with losing religion; he’d always been an atheist, but he could see the parallels. “Yeah. I see what you mean,” he said slowly. “I guess it is similar, isn’t it?” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“There’s not much you can, is there? You can’t change the law, and it doesn’t seem like you’re sure you’d want to anyway. It doesn’t change the way you live your life. You’re still a cop, and you still have a duty to uphold the law as it is currently written. As you do with all laws, even ones you’ve never agreed with.”

John nodded.

“And in the meantime, you deal with this. You figure out what you feel, and how it affects you. You avoid the hate as best you can. You figure out how deep your commitment to the First Amendment goes. And where you draw the line.”

“Thanks, doctor.” John stood up. “That helped.”

“You’re welcome, John. You know my door is always open to you.”

* * *

John returned to his desk, a mixture of emotions swirling through his mind. His talk with Huang had left him with as many new questions to consider as it had answered. But before he did anything else, he pulled out a sheet of cat litter paper he left stored in his desk and wrote himself a note about Dana Lewis. He left references to the specific threads to bring to Huang’s attention should they escape the loop, so that he wouldn’t forget about this matter.

Not that he thought he’d be able to forget about it any time soon. Not even if they lived through a hundred—or even a thousand—more repetitions of this day.

He slipped the page back into an unmarked file folder in his desk and paused, taking a look around. It was late-morning, and at least the captain hadn’t come to him about any new cases this same-day. Olivia was, as usual, working on some paperwork of her own and Elliot was wasting time bitching at poor Kathy on the phone about that stupid shower.

 _I don’t understand how she can put up with his ass._ He still felt guilty for how things had turned out the day he and Fin had treated her to a nice day at the spa. They’d have to try that again one of these same-days—and devise some other distraction for Elliot. He almost wrote himself a note about that, but decided he’d remember without needing to waste the litter paper.

Now, for old cases. The reason he’d first intended to come into work today. They all had them—files lurking in the dark recesses of their desks or shuffled off to Cold Cases, never fully out of mind. His closure rate here at SVU was respectable—not as high as Liv or Elliot’s, but solid. And compared to theirs, less riddled with dubious police work that would get him flagged by 1PP.

That was important to him, to continue to always keep a clean record, fly under the radar of any suspicion. Not simply because he prided himself on being a good cop, but because he never wanted to give anyone reason to poke around too closely into his past.

Baltimore. Gordon Pratt. Things he’d only shared with Fin, a level of trust he’d never extended to anyone else because he could think of no one else he trusted as much as his partner.

And there he was being distracted again by things he’d rather put out of mind. _Focus on SVU cases_ , he ordered himself. For there was always the hope that with time, distance, and fresh eyes, something might stick out that had been overlooked before. Or alternatively, advances in technology might make it worth retesting old evidence which had previously been inconclusive.

 _But where to start?_ he thought, and his mind quickly flashed to one name, made him go straight for one file: Linda Vitale. A Hudson University freshman who’d been found brutally beaten and raped in her dorm by her roommate, with absolutely no memory of the attack afterwards.

It had been so ugly that John and Fin had pursued the case for months: interviewing and re-interviewing the residents of the dorm, all her classmates and friends, trying to piece together what might have happened to Laura. They’d narrowed down their suspects until John was convinced they had their perp: Johnny Rae Tang, a low-level dealer specializing in party drugs for Hudson kids. They’d even managed to get enough evidence to convince Judge Donnelly to grant them a warrant for his DNA...only to be shocked and disappointed when it wasn’t a match.

After that dead end, the case had grown cold. With no other viable suspects, they’d had to drop it and move on to more pressing matters, hoping that someday the perp would end up in the system for some other crime and they’d get their DNA match.

 _Johnny Rae Tang, Johnny Rae Tang...why is that name ringing a bell in my brain today?_ Something about it was tickling his memory, as if he’d heard it for some other reason recently, but hadn’t connected them together.

He went to his computer to search for Tang’s name in any open cases within their department. That’s when it hit him, as a match popped up on his screen.

Another brutal rape, although this one had left the victim dead in a pay-by-the-hour hotel room. The victim hadn’t been a prostitute, as they’d initially suspected, but some poor out-of-town kid spending a weekend with her girlfriends in the big city. They had crossed paths with Johnny Rae at a frat party they’d been invited to after hooking up with some Hudson students.

John skimmed over the file. It had been one of Elliot and Liv’s cases, several months ago, so he wasn’t up on all the details. The official report in the system indicated that Tang had been ruled out as a suspect...but why? John could find no explanation of that in their report.

He looked around the bullpen again. Liv had wandered off somewhere, leaving Elliot scowling down at his paperwork. John took the moment to call over to him and ask, “Elliot, can I pick your brain about a not-so-old case for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.” Elliot got up with an impatient sigh, walked over to John’s desk. “What’s up?”

“Realized a name might connect it to an open case of mine. Remember the DuBonnet rape-homicide you and Liv worked earlier this year?”

“Ah...yeah,” he replied after a brief pause. “Yeah, I remember. Poor kid. Never had a real lead on a suspect beyond some pimp trying to turn her out and having it go wrong.”

“Or it could have been a dealer by the name of Johnny Rae Tang. He was the main suspect in a rape Fin and I couldn’t solve after the DNA didn’t match. I noticed that you had him pinned as a suspect in your case as well, but not why he was ruled out.” John sat back as Elliot peered over his shoulder, looking at the case file he’d pulled up. A flicker in Elliot’s expression caught John’s eye, but he couldn’t figure whether it was irritation at having his own police work questioned, or something else. “Oh. Right. Right...I remember. He had an alibi for the time of her death that night.”

“A solid one?”

“You think I didn’t check it out?” Elliot challenged.

John held up his hands. “I’m just asking.”

“It was a good alibi, John. Trust me.”

“Okay. I just wanted to know. Especially since you didn’t include that information in your official report—as sergeant I do need to review these matters.”

“Well, I promise to do more thorough house keeping next time, _Sergeant_.” Elliot huffed off at that, cursing as his cell phone was ringing with Kathy’s ring tone yet again.

_And fuck you too, asswipe._

“John!”

He looked up to find the captain grabbing his coat. “Going somewhere, need me to cover?” he asked.

“No, you’re coming with me. Got a call from Warrants. Remember your guy Bullman?”

John grimaced. He’d hoped they might be done with that scum already. “Yeah, hard to forget that bastard. Skipped town before we could bring him in.”

“Well, he was found _in_ town this morning with an accomplice. Looked like they were setting up camp in an abandoned warehouse. They’re searching the building now to confirm they didn’t have any victims there, or evidence of assaults on site.”

“Let’s go,” John said with no hesitation. More so than even seeing Bullman again, John’s attention had been grabbed by the mention of an accomplice.

An accomplice who was _alive_ , and if it was Wilkes, returned from the dead.

He had to see this with his own eyes—though he wished Fin was well enough to see it, too.

* * *

Fin, for his part, woke up from a fitful sleep to a raging coughing fit. He still felt shitty. If they healed faster in this time loop, it seemed he also cycled through the symptoms of a bad cold faster. His scratchy throat and sneezing had rapidly progressed into heavy chest congestion and feeling weak as fuck. Brushing the back of his hand across a sweaty forehead, he guessed he’d developed a low-grade fever, too.

He pushed himself upright enough to grab the NyQuil bottle and chug another dose. At least that might knock him out for a few more hours. Flopping down onto the bed, he heard the _tap-tap-tap_ of doggy paws on the wood floor. Batman jumped up on the bed to join him, whining and licking at his face.

“Sorry, buddy. Not doin’ too good today.” Batman probably needed to go for a walk, but Fin wasn’t up for it yet. Maybe after he took another nap—if not he’d call Mary next door to take him out. He didn’t want to make John have to clean up a mess by the door when he got home later on.

Fin was so foggy-headed he barely noticed, before nodding off again, how easy it had been to think of this as  _their_ home, not _his_ home. Which was silly, wasn’t it? He barely had enough room here for himself and now a dog (and occasional cat). And he and John were just friends, with benefits on the side since getting stuck in this mess.

It didn’t mean anything more than that.

He wondered how John’s day was going, and contemplated picking up his phone to send him a text or make a quick call. But, he figured, if anything serious was happening surely John would let him know. With Batman doing his best to soothe with his presence, Fin drifted into another light sleep.

* * *

John’s stomach clenched as they approached the warehouse. He had to remember that as far as the others knew, he’d never been here before. He hadn’t been beaten bad enough to end up in the hospital; Fin hadn’t returned here on another same-day and killed the man who’d assaulted him. 

Several patrol cars and a CSU van were already on the scene. A young plainclothes detective, badge around his neck, walked toward John and the captain as they got out of their vehicle. John already had his own badge out to show the man. “Sergeant John Munch from Manhattan SVU. This is my captain, Don Cragen.”

“Detective Nick Amaro,” the man introduced himself. John needed only a second to remember why that name was familiar. Amaro was the same detective from Warrants who had met up with Fin here on a previous same-day. “Bullman was your guy, right?”

“Right,” John confirmed. “How did you track him to here?” On the initial iteration of this day involving Bullman, a tip had come in to SVU. But that had never happened again so far.

“Call came in about a suspicious van hanging around a school nearby. They ran the plates and Bullman’s name came up,” Amaro explained. “I happened to be cruising the area, searching down another piece of dirt, so I took the call. Spotted the van but when I saw two men inside I didn’t want to risk a violent incident near the school with kids out on the playground. But I called for back-up to be ready. They ended up driving off after a while and coming here. That’s when we made our move, brought them both down without incident.”

John nodded. “Nice work.” Amaro led them over to the patrol cars, where Bullman sat handcuffed and sulking in the back of one. Wilkes, very much alive and well—though also looking pissed off at being caught—was in another.

“ _Excellent_ work,” Cragen agreed. “And smart thinking, waiting to apprehend until you had back-up and were in an isolated area.”

“Thank you, Captain. If I thought they were ready to make a move on a kid right then and there I would have taken the risk, but otherwise? It looked to me like they were scoping the place out to plan an abduction in the future.”

“Well, speaking of the future, if you’re ever looking to move up from Warrants, we could use someone like you in SVU.” Cragen turned to John and said, “We have been short-staffed since...”

John nodded his agreement so the captain didn’t have to speak of it. Or rather, of _him_. Chester Lake. Not that John had ever liked the guy, but it was true that since his own promotion they were due another detective in the unit. SVU could be a tough assignment to fill, to find someone who could handle it and not balk after a few months and leave.

“That’s...thank you, Captain,” Amaro said, looking proud if a touch embarrassed. “Y’know, I’ve got a little girl at home now. Zara. She’s three years old. And I’ve been thinking about how I’d like to do more to protect and help kids like her from these kinds of dirtbags and predators.”

John could understand why Fin had taken a liking to this guy right away. He seemed earnest and intense about the job, but without the macho posturing that always came part and parcel with Stabler. He’d be curious to talk with him some more except that he was itching to get into that warehouse, if only to check on one thing.

If Wilkes was alive—and clearly he was—were there still blood stains from where Fin had shot him the other same day? It was a tiny detail, but _any_ little thing that could be a clue to the time loop was important for John to investigate. “Captain, I’m going to head inside and find out what CSU has turned up.”

“All right. Amaro, how about you give me a ride to the precinct so we can get these two to holding? And we could talk some more about what a position at SVU would entail.”

“Absolutely.”

John left the two of them to get better acquainted and headed inside the warehouse. He passed and gave casual greetings to several techs he recognized. Seeing them in their familiar blue jackets made him think of Ryan O’Halloran and his conversation with Dr. Huang that morning.

 _Why does that scumbag Wilkes get to come back, when a nice guy like Ryan stays dead?_ he wondered.

Then again, Ryan hadn’t died on this time-loop day, but months before. Perhaps no one stayed dead if they died today. That was a thought, another idea he would jot down later to pursue.

“Hey, Vizcarrondo,” John called, recognizing a woman coordinating several other techs.

“Munch!” She smiled at him. “Where’s your better half today?”

“Down for the count with a bad head cold. You guys find anything yet?” John asked.

“Not much. A makeshift camp-out on the upper floor, but it appears they hadn’t been here for very long. No signs of anyone else being here, either.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. The only real _curious_ thing is what appears to be significant blood stains in one area. Something nasty happened here, but the question remains if it was recent or a much earlier incident. They’re taking samples now for analysis.”

“Can you show me where that is?”

“Around the corner, over that way,” she said. “You can’t miss it, Ryan’s got it all lit up while they’re taking photos and collecting samples.”

John began to head that way after a quick “Thanks.” But then his brain caught up with his feet and he stopped short—so short he nearly tripped over his own feet. Spinning around, he asked, “Ryan?”

_She can’t mean..._

“Yeah, you know...Ryan? O’Halloran? Tall, light and handsome? Hey, tell Fin if he needs someone to make him some chicken soup and keep him warm, I’m always—”

But John had ran off too quick to even acknowledge her invitation.

* * *

“Jay, get some samples off the wall there—” Ryan pointed to the area where the UV was lighting up the many speckles, a morbid constellation in the dark. “We could have some more splatter.”

“Got it.”

“O’Halloran?”

Ryan turned toward the voice calling his name—and then found himself tackled into a very out-of-character bear hug by none other than Sergeant John Munch. “Uh...hello?”

“You’re here! You’re... _alive!_ ”

A dark panic hit Ryan harder than Munch had seconds before, and for a moment the room around him began to spin, spiral, and fade away.

_He knows._ **_Someone_ ** _knows. But...how?_

Ryan cast a furtive glance around him, seeing the other techs giving them _both_ odd looks. He disentangled himself from Munch and hissed, “Not so loud, _please_.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s...”

“I’m supposed to be dead, right?” Ryan finished for him. Munch said nothing, but kept looking at Ryan with disbelief. “You’re the only person today who’s noticed. And I don’t know what’s going on. Please tell me that you do...that _someone_ does.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t, Ryan. But I do know that you need to come with me, _immediately_.” John grabbed his hand and yanked him away from the scene.

“But, I have to—”

“You don’t have to do anything but _come with me_ because there is someone who needs to see you as soon as possible. We can try to sort this out along the way.”

* * *

John threw his normally cautious driving out the window, speeding over the bridge into Manhattan. “So tell me what happened, what you remember,” he asked Ryan, honking at a cab about to cut him off.

“There’s...not much _to_ remember, I’m afraid,” Ryan said. “The last thing I recall before today was being in my lab and calling Elliot. Something about a mosquito...blood...getting a DNA match? And then someone...some _thing_ bad happening. But I can’t remember what that something was.” Ryan shook his head. “The next thing I know, I wake up this morning. I’m in my bed, in my apartment, and everything seems... normal. Except for the fact that months are missing from my memory.”

“What time did you wake up?” John asked.

“I don’t know, I guess...my alarm went off. So must have been my usual time. Six a.m.?”

“Six a.m. Of course.” It could be a coincidence. And nothing at all, since most of them had an 8 a.m. start time for their work days. However John took nothing for granted given their situation. “But you don’t remember anything between that call to Elliot and this morning.”

“No. Only that...I’m pretty sure...somehow I know I was dead during all that missing time in my memory. Wasn’t I?”

John spared a quick glance at his passenger, saw the scared look on his face. “I need to know,” Ryan insisted, and John sighed. He’d never had to tell someone they’d been dead and now mysteriously resurrected before.

“You did die,” John told him, deciding to stick with the facts—but not mention anything about him and Fin and the time-loop. “The DNA match was to Dale Stuckey. He’d killed Harrison’s lawyer along with that woman at Coney Island, and even attempted to kill Judge Donnelly. He killed you to try to cover it all up. Stabbed you in the heart.”

“Oh my god.” John saw Ryan feel for his chest, as if on reflex. And then he managed a wry smile and said, “It figures, the one thing that idiot would do right would be how to make fatal knife blow.”

John had to snort at that. At least Ryan hadn’t lost his sense of humor while dead.

“But there’s no scar, no...nothing. Like my memory between then and now. Nothing at all.”

John could comment or ponder the implications of that—what it potentially meant about the existence of an afterlife, or the lack thereof. But now didn’t seem the best time for it. So he stuck with the basic facts of today which still held many questions for him. “So after you woke up, you went to work as normal?”

“I didn’t have a clue what else to do, to be honest. Not until I could figure out what was going on. And when everyone at work acted like it was a typical day, saying hello as if I’d been there all week, nothing unusual, I thought I’d better play along with it. Like I said, you’re the first person I’ve run into today who knows I was dead.”

“I can tell you that Fin knows. And George, too.” Stuck waiting at a light, John looked over at him again, saw the pained look on Ryan’s face at the mention of the doctor’s name. “We were actually talking about you this morning. How much he misses you, that you were engaged to get married?” Ryan nodded. The light changed and John focused again on the traffic. “That’s why I’m taking you to see him, because if anyone needs to know that you’re alive, it’s George.”

“I know, but...God...I wanted to call him first thing when I woke up this morning but I was afraid...wouldn’t it freak him out if I’ve been dead? What if he’s moved on?”

“Trust me, Ryan, he has _not_ moved on. And it no doubt will freak him out very much but you need to be with him _today,_ and as soon as possible.” John couldn’t tell him why that had to be, that he didn’t trust what might happen next day. Was Ryan’s “resurrection” temporary, something else that would reset in the morning? That might fit in with his multiverse theory that they were traveling through alternative universes. Somehow, in this one, Stuckey hadn’t killed Ryan.

Only this Ryan _did_ remember dying, and George remembered it too, so that couldn’t quite be right. And the bloodstains remained in the warehouse from when Fin had killed Wilkes on a previous same-day. So some things were changing, remaining behind based on previous actions.

What if time and space were completely unraveling around them? And even if so far it had meant good things—Ryan being alive, the legalization of same sex marriage in this state, Batman and Marmalade sticking around day after day since their adoption—John had a feeling bad things could just as easily happen as well.

He needed to talk to Fin about this...about _everything_ going on now and what was different in today’s timeline. He knew Stuckey was still in jail, along with Peter Harrison, thanks to the emails from Gwen and forum discussions he’d looked at. But he hadn’t really looked closely to see if anything different was said about Ryan today. Before the day was over, he would force himself to check again to find out.

But he had to reunite Ryan with George first, on the chance that this day repeated and come tomorrow Ryan was dead again. He had to give these two what little time they might have together for now.

* * *

John stepped into the bullpen to find everything much as he’d left it. Olivia was back at her desk picking at a salad for lunch, and Elliot was on the phone with Kathy moaning about the shower. Olivia looked up and noticed not just John but, going by her eyes widening in shock, Ryan lagging a few steps behind him.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, dropping her fork and getting to her feet. That made Elliot look up, turn in his seat, and gape open-mouthed before telling his wife, “Uh, I’m gonna have to call you back, Kath.”

 _So they know he was dead, too,_ John surmised. And before the intense questioning could begin, he started—going with the one flimsy excuse he’d thought of in the car—“Long story, witness protection, Ryan’s back now and someone _please_ tell me Dr. Huang is still in the building.”

“He’s in his office, but—” Olivia said and John didn’t even wait for her to finish her thought. He pulled Ryan along by the arm while he could barely manage a “Hi guys!” and “Bye guys!” in Elliot and Liv’s direction.

“I’m still not sure about this...” Ryan protested as they neared the doctor’s office.

“I’m telling you, everything will be fine. As soon as you two are together again, it will fall into place.”

Ryan looked ready to object once again but now they were outside of the open office door. John knocked gently and Huang called, “Come in.” John paused, indicating for Ryan to wait outside for a second, and Ryan nodded.

“John,” George greeted him. “Didn’t expect to see you again today. Is there something else I can do for you?”

“Keep an open mind. I’ve brought someone here for you...someone I think you’ll be pleased—if surprised—to see.” John stepped aside and motioned for Ryan to come forward. And he stayed back, as O’Halloran stepped into the doorway, managing a nervous smile at the seated and stunned doctor.

“Oh my god...”

“George. I...hi,” Ryan stammered, as George stumbled to his feet, restraining himself as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were revealing to him.

“But this can’t be...I saw you. I saw your body. At the morgue, _I saw your body_...” George repeated, Ryan cautiously moving forward even as George stepped back.

“I’m sure you did. And I can’t explain it, but...it’s me. It really is me and if you keep looking at me like that I think I might rather be dead again.”

John heard the hurt in Ryan’s voice and wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, bringing him here. Maybe this was too much for either of them to deal with, not without some kind of explanation. But then George shook his head and dared at last to come out from behind his desk, uttering, “No, no. I’m sorry. Losing you once was bad enough, I couldn’t...” he trailed off, stifling a sob with his fist that then turned into joyful laughter as Ryan rushed to take him into an embrace.

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, John moved away from the doorway, wanting to give them some privacy now. It didn’t seem right to intrude upon this moment, one which had to be overflowing with emotions they needed to share exclusively with each other.

He tried to imagine how it might feel to have someone he’d cared for so much show up returned from the dead. If Helen Rosenthal came strolling into the 16th precinct one day, vibrant and alive instead of cold and dead, choked to death in a parking garage.

If he turned on the television and saw Sarah Logan reporting on the evening news as usual, despite having been blown to pieces by a homemade bomb.

Or if Fin had been killed in that random shooting in the bodega, and then reappeared months later as if nothing had happened.

All of them, dark thoughts and memories that he didn’t enjoy dwelling upon. He shook them off and finally had to take a peek in at how George and Ryan were doing. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said, after clearing his throat and catching the two in a close embrace, “but I take it the reunion is a happy one?”

“How can it be anything but?” Ryan said.

George nodded, still obviously caught between laughter and tears. “I don’t know how this is possible.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter how, or why,” John said, “and it’s best to simply...let it be. An unexplained mystery of the universe.”

“Maybe. But still...”

“No, no buts. Don’t waste time on wondering why.” A thought, an idea, came to John’s mind. “In fact I don’t think you shouldn’t waste time at all. George, you told me you two were planning on getting married as soon as it was legal, right?”

“Yes, we...”

“Then you should do it. Today.”

The two men stared at John, then at each other, and chuckled. “I...well,” George started. “Finding out Ryan is alive has been enough of an emotional upheaval for the day. We could both use some time first to—”

“No,” John cut him off, adamant. “Time is not your friend. Look at how time nearly fucked you over before. Planning a life together and then one day, it’s all over before it even got going! Or at least, you thought it was over,” John added, catching Ryan’s nervous expression. “You’re both here, today, and George, you told me that you planned to be the first in line the day they made it legal. Well, that’s already happened. So why aren’t you already in line?”

Ryan looked to George and shrugged. “The sergeant does have a point.”

“I’ll concede that,” George agreed. “But...I don’t think we can walk in there today and make it happen. New York State has a twenty-four hour waiting period after getting a license before you can have even a basic civil ceremony.”

“Not if you get a judicial waiver,” John said. He recalled that having come up in cases before. “And I know exactly who you should ask—Judge Donnelly. I have a feeling she’d be delighted to find out Ryan is alive given what Stuckey did to her.” John selfishly wanted to find out if she was aware that Ryan had been dead like he, George, Elliot and Liv were. Maybe it was something affecting only people directly involved in the Harrison/Stuckey situation? John wanted to know.

“You’re probably right, she would,” George said, and then looked up at Ryan. “And you know, I never returned the rings we’d already picked out. I’d have to go to my apartment to get them...”

“...and maybe pick up a change of clothes myself as this isn’t what I’d choose to wear on the best day of my life,” Ryan continued.

George smiled, and looked up at him to ask, “Ryan O’Halloran, do you want to get married today?”

“Yes. Yes! Let’s do it.”

“John, I assume you’d be willing to come along to be witness for us?”

“I’d be honored. But since you both need some time to get ready, I’m going to get my partner. He can drag his sick ass out of bed to witness this, too.”

George checked his watch and said, “Clerk’s office, by two o’clock? I’ll put a call in to Judge Donnelly’s office to make sure she’s not in session.”

John nodded. “Any hold-ups let me know.” _And I’ll find a way to make it happen no matter what,_ he thought. If death couldn’t keep them from getting married, nothing else could. Not today.

* * *

Fin woke up from his nap feeling well enough to take at least a quick walk around the block with Batman, so he wouldn’t have to call on Mary to take care of the puppy. The fresh air felt refreshing, but even that brief exertion left him woozy. He was settling onto the sofa to try to doze off again when John came bursting in the apartment, startling him at the lack of knock or warning.

“Great, you’re up,” John said.

“Barely,” Fin grumbled, pushing himself up to a seated position. “The hell’s goin’ on now?”

“As much as I hate dragging you out when you’re sick, you’ve _got_ to come with me—now. Oh and put something nice on first.” John rushed into Fin’s bedroom and after a minute or two of rummaging around came out carrying a full suit from the closet. “Here, this will work.”

“Again, I’m gonna ask: what the _fuck_ is going on?”

“We’re going to a wedding.”

“What?!”

“Well, hopefully we are, as long as Judge Donnelly agrees to sign off on the waiver so it can happen today.”

Fin blinked and coughed. “Who’s gettin’ married?”

“George Huang. And—get _this—_ Ryan O’Halloran.”

It took Fin’s brain a few seconds to process this information. He knew Dr. Huang was gay, sure, but he hadn’t known about his relationship with Ryan. And... “Wait, Ryan is _dead_.”

“Not this same-day he isn’t,” John said, stripping off and putting on a different tie. “He’s alive. And so is Wilkes. Ran into Ryan when I got called out to the warehouse, where your buddy Amaro from Warrants had arrested Wilkes and Bullman.”

Fin sat there, shaking his head as his mind was too overloaded by all this information. “This is all crazy.”

“I know, I know, it’s a lot of information to process. And there’s more, too. But get dressed and I’ll explain on the drive to the courthouse. As much as I can explain, at least.”

* * *

Despite Fin’s protestations, John drove, arguing Fin shouldn’t be behind the wheel while drugged up on NyQuil. Fin reluctantly agreed.

“None of this makes any sense,” he continued to protest after John went over the morning’s events. Oh, he could buy finding out that Dana Lewis was a closet racist and conspiracy nutcase; life experience had taught him that far too many people harbored such disgusting thoughts and feelings no matter the polite face they put on to the public. He wasn’t even as perturbed about that as John was. But everything about people being resurrected from the dead, and about gay marriage having apparently been legalized months ago when he, too, distinctly remembered the last bill not passing. None of that made sense—not any of it.

“When has anything about this time-loop made sense?” John countered. “But I agree, it seems to be an escalation of the weirdness we’ve been experiencing. Though seeing how happy George and Ryan were to be reunited, I’m not going to be one to wish that hadn’t happened.”

“Gotta wonder what could end up happening _next_.”

“I know. But I’m trying not to worry about that right now.”

Fin couldn’t argue about that. It was taking enough of his concentration and energy to stay awake and alert through his cold medication and stuffy head—and to not get sick from John’s driving.

John dropped him off outside the Clerk’s Office and went to find parking. As Fin was standing there, he spotted two familiar faces across the street, waiting for the light to change and then walking toward him. He waved as Dr. Warner recognized and smiled at him. She was with her husband, Dr. Beresford, whom Fin knew from many visits to Mercy General through the years.

“Hey, Melinda, Kyle,” he greeted as they drew near. It was rare to see them both out of their scrubs and dressed in more formal attire—Kyle in a suit, Melinda in a dark blue dress. They certainly cleaned up nice and made for a handsome couple.

“Hi, Fin,” Melinda said. “Are you here for George and Ryan’s wedding, too?”

“Yeah, just waitin’ on Munch.”

“I’m still having a hard time believing it—all these months, everything George went through after he thought Ryan was dead...” Kyle shook his head and looked to his wife, who nodded in sympathy.

 _That’s ’cause he_ ** _was_** _dead,_ Fin thought, but he wasn’t about to say anything _._ “You guys were all close friends?” Fin asked, not having known as much. But then again, he hadn’t even known George and Ryan had been dating until John had dragged him out of the apartment less than hour ago.

“Oh, very much so,” Melinda explained. “We used to ‘double-date’ for theater nights out—in fact that’s how they first met, one night when we had a pair of extra tickets for _Mamma Mia._ I invited Ryan, Kyle invited George, and—”

“...And that’s why we couldn’t get married today without the two of you here to witness it.” Fin turned to spot George coming down the steps to meet Melinda, who embraced him with a laugh and a joyful hug.

“Everything set? Did you get the waiver?” Fin asked.

“Judge Donnelly practically dragged us here to the City Clerk’s office herself. As it is, she’s holding our place in line with Ryan.”

“Then we’d best get on inside and join them,” Kyle encouraged.

“Yeah, here’s my partner now,” Fin said, as John came bounding up the steps to join them. He’d stopped at a flower cart and came bearing a bouquet of colorful Autumn blooms.

“Can’t have a wedding without some flowers,” he explained. He handed some yellow and orange daisies and lilies to Melinda, a pair of red roses to George, and the rest of the bouquet to Fin.

“If we’re all set, then let's get going. I already feel as if I’m six months late for my own wedding,” George grinned.

* * *

John had been to more than his fair share of weddings—including, of course, four of his own. Ryan and George’s might not have been the fanciest, nor the most outwardly romantic in setting and decor, but it was hard not to find it the most emotionally moving he’d ever witnessed. Seeing how they looked at each other, filled with such amazement and joy to be able to actually “have and to hold” their most beloved once again...

Well. John normally wasn’t especially easily moved to tears but dammit if he wasn’t holding in a few embarrassing sniffles as the two exchanged their vows.

“Here,” Fin whispered at one point, nudging him and handing him a tissue. John took it gladly. “Sounds like you’re catching my cold.”

 _An admirable save, partner,_ he thought but didn’t speak, trying to stay quiet as the officiant continued reading the standard vows.

“Love should be the core of your marriage, love is the reason you are here. But it also will take trust—to know in your hearts you want the best for each other. It will take dedication—to stay open to one another; to learn and to grow together even when this is not always so easy to do. Inasmuch as you, George Huang, and you, Ryan O’Halloran, have thus consented in matrimony and have witnessed the same before your friends, by virtue of the authority vested in me as an Officiant and the laws of this state, I now pronounce you Married. You may seal your marriage with a kiss.”

Those gathered friends clapped and cheered as the two men did as encouraged, and with unabashed enthusiasm. Melinda had taken on the role of photographer and videographer, and was recording the final moments of the wedding for the couple to enjoy later on.

As the ceremony concluded, Ryan turned to everyone to say, “Thank you so much for coming to bear witness today. It means a lot to both of us.”

“Indeed,” George put in, “It...maybe wasn’t how we’d planned it but John, you were right—no point waiting around for the right moment when we could do it today.”

“Absolutely,” John agreed. “And hey, you could always renew your vows in the future, plan something more grandiose if you want.”

“If you do, I’d be happy to officiate it next time around,” Elizabeth put in. “When I have a little time to prepare for the occasion, of course.”

“Maybe we’ll do that. And thank you,” Ryan said. “For the time being, I think we’ll take what we can get and be thankful for it.”

“A very wise plan,” Fin said, holding back another coughing fit.

As the couple were busy finalizing a few details with their paperwork, getting copies of their license to take home, John turned to Fin and said, “I’d forgotten how much fun weddings can be. Maybe you and I should give it a try one of these same-days.”

“Huh?”

“You know, get married, just for kicks. See how everyone else reacts for the hell of it.” John shrugged. “Hey, it’s legal, could be fun for the day.”

Fin rolled his eyes. “Fun? Maybe. But that don’t mean it ain’t crazy.”

“Spoil-sport.”

Fin sneezed, his final word on the subject for the time being.

* * *

“I know we’ve had our share of memorable days of late,” John began, “or same-days as the case may be, but this one might take the cake.”

“’Cept we didn’t stick around for any of it. Cake, that is.”

“That’s because you looked ready to drop by the end of the ceremony.” John shifted his grocery bag to his left hand, then used his key to unlock the door to Fin’s apartment. “I felt bad enough about dragging you away from your beauty sleep by that point.”

Fin snorted and made a direct line for his sofa. “Yeah well, couldn’t let a stupid cold stand in the way of seeing someone come back from the dead. Especially a nice guy like Ryan.” He flopped down and Batman was quick to come over and join him. “Hey, buddy, good to see you, too. Please don’t tell me you need another walk.”

“If he does I’ll take care of it,” John said—although Fin wasn’t the sole person feeling worn out after this exceptionally full day. And yet, somehow, it was barely past seven o’clock, he noted as he looked at the time on the kitchen clock. He’d been sure it had to be close to midnight.

After the simple ceremony in the clerk’s office, Ryan and George had invited them all out for dinner to celebrate. But John had declined with thanks, and not just because of Fin’s ill appearance. The two newlyweds needed some private time together at last. Melinda and Kyle had quietly agreed and also departed, along with Judge Donnelly, after a few final words of congratulations and promises to catch up soon.

As heartwarming as the wedding had been, John’s thoughts were laced with worry for what the future held for the happy couple. _If there is any future. For all we know—at least all that Fin and I know—come next same-day Ryan will be dead again and none of this ever happened._

_If that’s the case, the only kind thing will be that George won’t remember any of it and have to suffer losing him all over again. So let them have this one night together. It could be the only one they have._

“Why don’t you change into comfy clothes and get into bed,” John suggested. “I’m going to work on that chicken soup.”

“I told you, we could’ve gotten some take-out.”

“Nonsense.” John began unpacking the supplies he’d picked up at the corner market near the apartment. “Treating sickness requires the nourishment good home cooking alone can provide—or so my mother always insisted.” Granted, John wouldn’t necessarily consider his cooking skills all that “good”. Passable, _barely_ , if he were to be honest. He could fry eggs, boil water for pasta, and if he was feeling adventurous maybe broil a steak. But cooking had never seemed a worthwhile skill set to develop—not in Baltimore when he could eat dinner out of the Waterfront’s kitchen, or here in New York where there was somewhere decent to dine on almost every corner.

Still, he reasoned, how hard could it be to make a pot of chicken soup?

“Please don’t burn down my kitchen,” Fin begged.

“Shush and go lie down. I’m going to get to work.”

John unpacked and went over the ingredients he’d bought, his best guess for what he might need. Chicken breast tenders, because they looked the fastest and the easiest to cook. A carton of chicken broth, because he knew he didn’t have time to make stock from scratch (or even how one go about doing that). A couple onions, a bag of celery, carrots, elbow noodles... It wouldn’t be his grandmother’s matzo ball soup, but he’d do his best to make something soothing and nutritious for Fin.

But, now...where to begin?

He scanned the kitchen for any signs of a cookbook. Something basic. Didn’t everyone who cooked at all own a copy of _Joy of Cooking_ or something similar? Every woman he’d ever married (or dated long enough to be cooked for) certainly seemed to. But nope, it turned out Fin wasn’t the kind of cook who ever bothered to follow a written recipe.

_That’s all right. The internet’s got to be good for this sort of thing._

He went into the living room and fired up Fin’s laptop. Searching for “chicken soup recipe” yielded him pages of results, the preview photo of each looking so delicious he couldn’t decide where to start. He clicked on the first one that had “easy” in the title, and began to read. Only it didn’t seem to have anything to do with preparing soup.

> _“Hello everyone! I hope you’ve all been enjoying the warm Autumn weather Mother Nature has gifted us lately. Usually this time of year my garden is on its last legs, but I’ve just come in from harvesting another big basket of peppers and green beans, and not even the rabbits can keep up with all the carrots that are bursting up out of the ground...”_

“So where’s the fucking recipe already,” John muttered to himself, scrolling down in search of any actual instructions. But after clicking through an endless page of photos and more rambling text about the blogger’s garden, he gave up and went on to look at the next recipe.

 _“Easy 30-minute homemade chicken soup”_ another link promised. John clicked on that one to find another rambling story, this one about how much the author loved and missed her nonna’s chicken soup that she remembered from her childhood. Complete with old black-and-white family photos.

“It’s going to take me thirty minutes to read this goddamned story and find an actual recipe,” John complained, and then gave up to check out the next url.

After getting lost in more stories about travels, detox diets, having to kill a cranky old rooster who was terrorizing a farmer’s hens, and far too many recipes written to promote some damned cookware product, John declared defeat and stormed to the kitchen. “I can wing it. It can’t be _that_ hard,” he said, getting out Fin’s cutting board. He grabbed a knife and starting to go to work on those vegetables, while also keeping an eye on Marmalade. She was very interested in what he was doing—and those chicken breasts in particular.

“No no no, little one,” he scolded her as she jumped from the chair to the kitchen table, to get a closer sniff. “Behave and you’ll get some when it’s cooked.” She whined as he shooed her away, but she jumped back onto the chair to keep the chicken in her sights.

John found a big soup pot (at least it _looked_ like a soup pot) and threw the vegetables in that along with the stock. He put it over a medium heat on the stove, thinking that he should cook the chicken first separately, to be sure it was heated through. A cold was bad enough—he didn’t want to give them both salmonella.

He found a sauté pan, coated it with some olive oil, and then threw the chicken in that after seasoning them with some salt and pepper.

“So far, so good,” he said, starting to feel confident. This wasn’t so hard after all, was it? Yet when he tried stirring the chicken around in the pan after a few minutes, he found it sticking to the metal surface already, if not burning then browning too quickly. Swearing, he turned down the heat and hurriedly tried to figure out what to do next.

What was it he’d seen their chef at the Waterfront do with chicken, years ago? He’d watched him at work, sometimes on slow nights. He remembered him talking about “deglazing” a pan when cooking chicken or steak to get up all the tasty juices—and anything stuck to the bottom. Usually with wine...but it didn’t appear that Fin had any wine on hand.

“Fuck!” John cursed, searching the fridge and finding beer but no wine. Then he remembered Fin kept his alcohol in the cabinet above the fridge. Looking in there, he spotted a bottle of brandy.

“This should do the trick,” he thought, grabbing the bottle and pouring some into the pan. Steam rose up and sure enough, he was able to dislodge the stuck bits of chicken now, turn them around to brown on all sides. He was feeling pretty proud of himself, in fact, remembering that little trick. It certainly smelled tempting in the kitchen. He threw the lid on the pan to keep the chicken cooking while he tasted and tried seasoning up the broth stock, which was coming to a simmer.

“How’s it going in there?” Fin called from the other room.

“Fine, fine,” John assured him. In fact he was feeling so confident now that he poured a shot of that brandy to enjoy while he waited on the chicken broth coming to a boil. Then he’d toss in the pasta, add the cooked chicken, and they’d be ready to eat in maybe ten minutes or so.

Who needed a recipe, anyway?

Maybe not him, but it turned out he _could_ use a little common sense. At least he realized as much after adding the elbow noodles to the soup pot, and then lifting the lid off the sauté pan to retrieve the chicken. For he hadn’t put together that the air rushing into the pan, over the fire, could ignite the remaining brandy and flare up in an instant, the heat blasting his face as he jumped away.

The flames died down in a second, thankfully, though the air was sharp with a strong burning smell. He glanced all around, didn’t _see_ anything burning, and breathed a sigh of relief.

So, he’d caused a _small_ fire. It had put itself out, and no damage seemed to be done. Fin wouldn’t have to know a thing. He turned on the stove vent to get out the smell and added the brandied chicken to the soup.

And had another shot of brandy to calm his nerves while he waited.

* * *

“All right, so it may be a bit non-traditional, but it’s fortified _and_ home-cooked,” John said, carrying a tray with Fin’s soup into the bedroom. He’d bring his own out next; he was quite pleased with how it tasted.

He wasn’t so pleased when Fin started giggling at him.

 _Giggling_.

Giggling was _never_ a good sound when it was coming from Fin.

“What’s the matter with you?” John asked, putting the tray down on the nightstand by Fin.

“ _You_ , man. You don’t—” Fin began giggling again, until the laughter turned into another coughing fit. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I made chicken soup.”

“Well I sure hope the hair you burned off didn’t end up in it.”

“What are you talking—” John cut himself short as he reached up to feel his head, and gathered that something wasn’t right. He forgot about getting his own bowl of soup and went to the bathroom instead, turned on the light, and cursed a vile stream of obscenities at what he saw.

He heard Fin giggling again from the other room.

“Funny, _real funny,_ ” John huffed, surveying the damage. So the burning he’d smelled had been his own hair getting singed when the brandy flamed up. There was a nice chunk of it missing or charred in the front, making him look like a deranged mad scientist. “I don’t suppose hair grows faster in this time-loop,” he said, returning to the bedroom.

“Dunno. Either that or you’re gonna be wearin’ a hat a lot more these next few weeks.”

“Maybe I should shave my head.” 

“No offense, babe, but I don’t think that would be a great look on you.”

John sighed. “Probably not. Well, something to worry about tomorrow. Next same day. Whatever. Just tell me the soup was worth my indignity.”

“It’s good,” Fin said.

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I’m not. I wouldn’t lie, not even to spare your feelings.”

John figured as much. In fact that was one of the things he’d always appreciated and respected about Fin—you always knew where you stood with him, no bullshit, no lies.

“I mean, it’s not my momma’s chicken soup, but it ain’t bad. A little boozy.”

“It’s the brandy that cost me my hair. Call it chicken soup meets a hot toddy.”

“So go get yourself a bowl and join me.”

“I will.”

“And bring some crackers,” Fin called after him.

“Yes, _master,_ ” John replied with a smirk. He wasn’t going to forget how Fin responded when he did that. But for now, soup.

* * *

“Ready to call it a night?”

“More than ready,” John sat down on the edge of the bed with a weary sigh. He’d fed the animals (giving Marmalade some chicken, as promised), put away the rest of the soup (if, by chance, it remained in the fridge come next same-day) and changed into his pajamas. Fin shifted to make room for him and it felt wonderful to settle in for the night after such a long day. Although, “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

“What now?”

“Was going to check to see what the boards and news online had to say about Ryan back in May, if anything. Just to see how far the circle of change has carried through. Totally forgot.”

“Don’t worry about that now. If he’s still alive next same day you can look into it then.”

“True,” John agreed. And he knew Fin still wasn’t feeling great but he couldn’t help going for at least one gentle kiss.

“Gonna give you this bug,” Fin warned.

“I’m going to catch it from you anyway if it’s contagious.” But he still pulled away and stuck to gentle cuddles, running one hand over Fin’s chest.

“Doin’ a lot better than this morning. Should be normal come tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“You got any ideas in mind for the day yet?”

John shrugged. “Finding out what, if any, of today’s changes stick around is going to be my first order of business. Well, _that_ , and dealing with my hair. Then I want to look deeper into a cold case I was reviewing this morning before everything started happening.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I tell you about it tomorrow, though.” He knew if he’d been feeling suspicious about Stabler’s reaction to mentioning Johnny Rae, Fin would be doubly so. He looked over at the nightstand on Fin’s side of the bed, noticed the book sitting out on it. Curious, he picked it up to examine the title. “‘The Happy Prince and Other Tales’, ah, that’s some interesting light reading.”

“Yeah, while you were cooking I decided to relax with somethin’ easy. Even if it’s a collection of fairy tales.”

“Well yes, but Wilde’s tales always are a bit above and beyond the ordinary. Do you mind?” he asked, before paging through the thin volume.

“Go for it. My grandfather gave me that book when I was little. He used to read it to me, along with a lot of other interesting stuff—poetry, plays...” Fin paused to reach for a tissue, blow his nose. “He was the one who got me so into reading, when the other kids just wanted to play games or sports, or get into trouble.”

“Sounds like a positive influence.”

“He was. Good old Grandpa Iggy...he’s still bangin’ around, you know. Though we had to move him into a senior living apartment last year.”

“We should go visit him sometime.”

“Suppose we should. I don’t see him enough.” Fin yawned. “Damn. I’m tired but it’s not healthy fallin’ asleep right after eating. Still not feeling up for any fucking around. I’d read some more but my eyes aren’t up for focusing.”

“How about I read to you then,” John suggested.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hadn’t revisited these old tales in years. He wouldn’t mind reading for an audience. “Tell me where you left off.”

“Mmm, anywhere is fine,” Fin said, settling in closer against John. “Didn’t get all that far before.”

“Okay,” John said. He flipped to the story of ‘The Nightingale and The Rose’ and began to read. _“‘She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,’ cried the young Student; ‘but in all my garden there is no red rose’...”_

As he read along, he began to recall this old short tale, but not every detail as it had been some time. He enjoyed reading it aloud, having Fin there for an audience, occasionally letting out a snort or chuckle of appreciation. He rested his head on John’s shoulder as John read on, carried along by the beautiful language of the fairy tale. _“Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?”_

As he continued, after a time, he noticed the only sound coming from Fin was a deep and steady breathing. He paused, turning the page, to find that Fin had in fact drifted asleep. But John kept reading, in a soft voice, until he got to the end of the tale.

“A bit of a downer,” he remarked, of the casual way the student tossed aside the nightingale’s sacrifice for what it believed was true love. But was there such a thing, anyway? How many years had John spent chasing it, only to meet disappointment again and again?

Would he give up his life for something he wasn’t even sure existed? Or had he grown as cynical as the student, tossing away the beauty of love after too many shallow disappointments? George and Ryan certainly radiated what seemed to be true love this afternoon at their wedding...but then again, every couple seemed so happy on that day. Four times around, John had witnessed how wedded bliss could turn sour.

Maybe all love was just an illusion. Friendship, like he had with Fin, that seemed a lot more dependable. Unwavering. Real.

John pondered, but was too tired to think too intently of it tonight. So he put the book down on the nightstand, turned off the light, and let Fin’s soft snoring lull him to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _sidewinder's quick notes_ :  
> * ThetaSigma & I decided that we headcanon Kyle as Melinda's mentioned-yet-never-seen-or-named husband. Because it works.
> 
> * You can find the full text of Oscar Wilde's _The Nightingale and The Rose_ online [here](http://www.online-literature.com/wilde/178/) if you are not familiar with it.
> 
>  _And a note from ThetaSigma:_  
>  This chapter basically marks the last of my work on this fic (note: sidewinder is taking over fully at this point, it’s not ending!!). I’ll be in and out, a scene once in a while, and sidewinder and I still talk it over, we still discuss the ideas, and I still read it before it gets posted, but I’m not producing any of the chapters any more (for this one, the first few thousand words are mine, the rest are hers).
> 
> It’s a decision I did not arrive at lightly, I want to say, and that decision took a lot longer to reach than was fair to my writing partner. I love this fic, I love the idea, I love a lot, but my interests have gone in so many different directions lately, and I haven’t had the time or the commitment for it. And I’ve had a lot of life problems in the past 6+ months that have made committing to getting anything done hard, and it got more and more unfair to take on a chapter, especially since I continually did not deliver.
> 
> So my involvement in this now is definitely a lot more behind-the-scenes – ideas, mainly, and someone to bounce things off of. No real writing.
> 
> But thank you all. It’s been a lot of fun doing this, even if I leave you before the story is totally complete (and fear not, for sidewinder is far more of a completionist than I could ever hope to be!). I’m staggered by the response and the enjoyment this has gotten, and I have to say, it’s kind of fun now to sit back and see where it goes! I still wish my life were in a position where I could help actually get the story there, but if that’s not the case, I know the story is in the best possible hands (it always has been, honestly, I just leave it fully there now)!
> 
> I especially want to thank sidewinder. She is the greatest writing partner and friend a person could ask for, a well of patience and love, and doing this project for the past year and a half with her has been a fantastic time. I am honored that I have had the chance to write with her, and honored more to call her my friend.
> 
> This note, with love, is for all of you, dear readers, but most of all, with love, for you, my dearest friend, sidewinder.


End file.
